Chapter 22: The Two Ronnies
Harry awoke the next morning before everyone else. Neville and Ron were snoring away loudly, Seamus was breathing heavily from inside his drawn bed hangings, while Dean was muttering something about a red card. Harry dressed in the pale light of the morning, pulling his robes over his jeans and jumper before making his way downstairs. The only soul in the common room was Crookshanks, who arched his back and began to purr as Harry walked towards him.
Harry sat there, all too aware of the silence of the empty room. Distant rustling and rumblings meant that people were getting up and sure enough a slow trickle of weary and bleary eyed Gryffindors began to pass through the common room on the way to breakfast. Crookshanks had gone, Harry thought his company mustn't be the best at this time of the morning. But Hermione's pet returned some time later with his owner in tow, and she looking surprisingly well rested.
'Morning,' she said brightly. 'Been up long?'
'Half an hour,' replied Harry.
'You should have called me,' said Hermione.
'How exactly? Would you have come if I did?' Harry asked slightly perplexed.
'Course,' chirped Hermione, who Harry thought seemed in a very good mood, 'shall we go to breakfast?'
'Shouldn't we wait for Ron?'
'Why? Has he forgotten the way?'
Harry wasn't sure how to answer this, thrown by Hermione's indifferent tone, so just followed her to the portrait hole.
'You seem in a good mood today,' Harry said
'Do I?' Hermione beamed, 'Good night's sleep I expect.'
'No, I don't think its that,' Harry persisted, 'I had a decent sleep but you don't see me bouncing along the corridors.'
'I am not bouncing!' Hermione said indignantly, 'Well, if you must know, I had an interesting chat with Lavender and Parvati last night.'
'Really? What about?' Harry asked, though darkly suspecting it had something to do with a dark haired bespectacled boy that Lavender and Pavati's favourite teacher often predicted a premature death for.
'It was about you, actually,' said Hermone brightly, Harry found he wasn't surprised, 'well…when I say you…I actually mean, "me and you".'
'What about it?' Harry asked, liking perhaps a little too much the mention of himself as Hermione as a pair.
'Well, they were asking about us going away, what we did and things. Don't look like that! I didn't tell them anything important. But anyway, they just seemed really pleased…said we looked cute together. Its put me in a good mood that's all. I think we should tell Ron as well, you know, just get it over with.'
They had entered the Great Hall by this time and it was quite full of students, Harry wished they could continue this conversation a little more privately. Hermione, however, was unperturbed.
'First, though, we need to sort out ourselves,' she said, a slight hint of anxiety in her voice.
'How do you mean?' Harry asked, 'I thought we'd sorted that out already?'
'Not officially. But we might as well do it now…before we get interrupted. I only have to ask you one thing: am I your girlfriend, Harry? I mean, if anyone asks me, can I tell them that?'
She looked nervous and apprehensive, blushing madly and staring at Harry as though trying to burn eye marks into him.
'I'd like you to,' said Harry slowly, 'Its up to you. But I'd love to be able to call you that…you know, if anyone asks me.'
'Great,' beamed Hermione, 'that's settled then.'
She shifted up a little closer to him on the bench, taking his hand as she did so. Harry thought it might be a little harder to eat with one hand but didn't complain. Several people noticed them both holding hands on the table, but not one person mentioned it. As Ginny entered with Ron a little while later she noticed it and made the first comment about it, asking Harry if there was anything wrong with his hand. Hermione replied the negative in quite a sharp tone and received a disgusted look from Ginny in response.
Ron seemed quite indifferent to the whole thing. He gave the connected hands a quick, disparaging look but didn't say anything. He was quickly distracted by the morning post, which included a large box of sweets from home. Harry thought Mr Weasley's new job must be bringing in plenty of money as Ron didn't usually get extra sweet gifts apart from at holiday times.
Throughout the first class of the Day, Harry noted a strange new facet to Ron's behaviour. His sarcasm, usually so bleak and pessimistic, had taken on a definitive snide and curt edge. Whether through the sight of Harry and Hermione so close together or not, Ron's attitude to them both was bordering on the nasty. He seemed to be picking up on the slightest thing that Hermione was doing wrong, which wasn't much as Hermione tended not to make mistakes in class. The trend continued through to Charms where Ron seemed to be taking pleasure in belittling Hermione.
'You're still doing it wrong!' Ron squealed as Hermione's charm to make scrubbing brushes clean a pan by themselves went wrong, causing them to scrub Neville instead, 'its not such a big flick of your wand. And you have to really pronounce the incantation. No, still not right!'
Harry wanted to stop Ron, who was now just poking fun at Hermione, but he couldn't really argue with him. He was right after all, though Harry suspected it was Ron's comments that were putting Hermione off her work. They went off to lunch with Hermione and Ron exchanging moods; Ron now happy and bubbly, Hermione dark and moody. Harry thought he might be able to cheer her up by holding hands with her as they walked towards the Great Hall. Several Slytherins passed them and sniggering but Harry's plan worked; Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, swaying it in time with their footsteps as though trying to show it off to the passers-by.
They ate quietly at lunch, Harry feeling like he was the eye of a huge storm that was just waiting to explode. Ron wasn't making so many comments now, hardly surprising when his mouth was full of mashed potato and peas, but Hermione was still clearly not happy with Ron, despite her better mood with Harry. She cut a figure of an extreme schizophrenic; on the one hand she was bubbly and playful with Harry, but turn her to face Ron and she was mutinous and wore a look of thunder.
It was strangely ironic then that going down to the dungeons to Potions was a happy moment for her; she perked up greatly when Ron left to go to Herbology, casting an envious look towards the dungeons, clearly wanting to continue his sparring with Hermione. Harry wrenched his hand free of Hermione's as the queued up outside the Potions classroom, explaining to Hermione that he didn't want to give the Slytherins any more reason to laugh and point at them. Hermione reluctantly agreed that their relationship wasn't an exhibition for Slytherin amusement.
Snape swept into the dungeon ahead of his class and Harry followed Hermione to seats at the back, happy that he would get to work with her again.
'Quieten down all of you,' snapped Snape curtly, 'we have a lot to get through today. I have marked all your work on the Veritaserum Potion you made last term and I have been singularly surprised that all of you managed to concoct a fairly decent version of the serum. Even Mr Potter, whose potion I am unhappy to say was one of the best, managed to survive beyond my earlier prediction of Halloween and remains with us,' the Slytherins guffawed behind their hands.
'This term, however,' continued Snape, 'will be extremely difficult. I expect you all to be able to brew the latest potion I set you within four weeks. This potion is not dependent on solar movement but requires a precision brewing pattern that will put your new found proficiency to the test. It is called the Empathisia Draught. Can anybody…not you Miss Granger…tell me what this potion does?'
'It makes you into someone else,' piped up Pansy Parkinson excitedly.
'No,' said Snape, sounding disappointed, 'that is the Polyjuice Potion.'
'No,' explained Pansy quickly, 'I meant it makes you into someone else. It makes someone else have things of you in them. Like if I drank a bit of your Draught, Professor, I'd be really clever and could even make it so I'd be as good looking as you.'
Harry could see Pansy gawping at Snape with eyes that searched for his approval. The corners of Snape's mouth twisted into a sly smile and his eyes flashed as though they were dying to look gloatingly around the room.
'That's better,' said Snape, though his voice was still silky, 'This potion will allow the brewer to imprint parts of his or her personality onto someone else. Or, conversely, drink a potion brewed with the essence of another person, presumably to improve themselves. If you wished to be athletic, take a piece of a Quidditch player and brew the potion like that. If you wished to be more intelligent, follow Miss Parkison's advice. A potion can also be brewed so that you can be almost completely taken over. Its like the Polyjuice Potion without the painful physical transformation. Copy from the board.'
'Wonder why we're learning this potion,' said Harry, thoughtfully.
'Don't know,' replied Hermione over her quill, which was scribbling furiously across her parchment.
'Because, Mr Potter,' said Snape coldly from behind Harry, who was continually amazed by the way Snape could move around so silently, 'the brewing procedure for this particular potion bears a striking similarity to the one we will be attempting to make before Easter. This potion requires fine distinctions and a lot of concentration, two things you lack in worrying amounts.'
He swept away leaving Harry flushing with humiliation and trying not to meet the consoling look that he was sure Hermione was sending to him. He couldn't deny that Snape was correct on one point; the potion was difficult. However, the one thing about having Hermione as such a close friend was that you got to work close to her also. In Harry's pre-Christmas determination to improve his Potions work he had swept to joint top of the class and was confident that he could remain there. He was pleasantly surprised when, at the end of the lesson, Snape reluctantly agreed that Harry's progress with his potion was the best in the class. Hermione, despite being bested by Harry for a rare occasion, was beaming with pride at him, throwing looks around the classroom in much the same way as Snape had when Pansy had called him good-looking.
When they met up with Ron in the Entrance Hall after the lesson Hermione went into raptures about Harry, waxing lyrical about how he had remained focused in the face of Snape's taunting and beat him.
'It's the best way to answer him, Harry,' she cooed, 'if you do everything he asks, and do it well, he cant criticise you. He has to praise you, and just think how much he hates that.'
'Yeah,' Harry agreed vehemently, 'how was Herbology, Ron?'
'Herbology? Is that where I was? I wondered what I was doing in the grounds,' said Ron, he sounded totally stunned at this information and looked very disorientated.
'Are you ok?' Hermione asked.
'Yeah, you look like you've only just learned how to walk,' said Harry with a smirk.
'Yeah…yeah I'm fine,' said Ron distantly, 'I've been like this most of the holiday. I cant remember what I'm doing half of the time, or where I've been. I think Ginny must be putting the Imperius Curse on me, or possessing me.'
'What?' Hermione cried, horrified.
'Relax!' Ron said, equally as emphatically, 'I was only joking! Jeez, Hermione, you need to take things with a pinch of salt.'
'Why did you mentions Ginny for then?' Hermione asked accusingly.
'She always seems to pop up around me. Saw he just then, asked me if I was ok. She was talking to me quite weirdly, like I was going to hit her or something. Every time I turned to face her she cowered away. Have I done something to her? Has she said anything to you?'
'Nah,' Harry said dolefully, 'hardly ever speaks to me these days.'
'Me neither,' added Hermione, 'except to scowl at me cos I'm going out with Harry?'
'You two re going out!' Ron cried, Harry grew wary, expecting Ron to explode with anger, 'about time. How did your holiday go anyway? I hope you took my advice about not getting up the duff.'
'Ron!' Hermione cried sounding scandalised, 'Do you have to be so crude? Besides, we told you about our holiday. Last night, remember?'
'Did you?' Ron replied sounding a little overwhelmed. 'See what I mean? I'm going mad, honestly. Shall we make a start on our Divination homework?'
They had reached the common room and sat down in their favourite seats by the fire. Crookshanks ambled up to Harry and Hermione, rubbing himself against their shins. He seemed uncertain about Ron but after a few sniffs decided it was ok to deposit some of his fiery orange fur on his robes too.
'There you go, Ron,' said Hermione happily, 'Crookshanks has given you some fur to add to your hair. Hey, have you dyed your hair again? Its darker again.'
'Didn't realise it was lighter,' said Ron vaguely.
'What are you on about Divination for anyway?' Harry asked. 'We dropped that last year.'
'Oh yeah,' said Ron blankly, 'I need to be put down I think.'
Ginny popped her head around the door a few moments later and took Ron away to discuss something personal; Harry thought it would be too rude to ask what.
'Something's not right with him, you know,' said Harry thoughtfully to Hermione.
'I know what you mean,' she replied 'he's come back from Norway acting very oddly. And I'd love to know what's going on with his hair. Anyway, shall we get started on that Potions homework? It shouldn't take too long considering how you know it all. Maybe I'll have to copy off you for a change.'
Harry knew she was only joking but appreciated the sentiment all the same. The homework didn't take that long, but Hermione pretending to copy Harry's answers got a bit tired after a time and Harry wanted to tell her that the joke was over. She seemed to read his mind, though, and stopped of her own accord.
After dinner, to which Ron wasn't present, Hermione decided to sit by the fire and get warm while continuing her never-ending production of elf clothes.
'Think about how cold they must all be,' she said desperately. 'I haven't been leaving out clothes for ages and the poor elves I haven't freed must be so cold. You'd beter help me, Harry. We'll get it done quicker.'
Harry thought maybe he could help her, but his idea of help involved a straight jacket and a padded room not a woolly jacket and padded hat. Still, she looked happy and Harry decided to again leave the confession that Dobby and Winky shared all the clothes she left out and that no other elves had yet been freed.
Harry was in bed long before he heard Ron enter the dormitory. Ginny's problems, Harry decided must be many and varied to have required Ron's attentions for so long. This kind of behaviour always made Harry suspicious, and it wasn't helped when Ron tried to climb into bed with him.
'Oi! Do you mind?' Harry hissed.
'Oh, sorry. Its rather hard to see in the dark. Night, Harry.'
Ron stumbled into his own bed, Harry heard him slurping a last drink before sleep and heard him breathing heavily shortly after, meaning he was asleep. Harry couldn't sleep. Ron's actions had awoken in him the dormant memories of before, things he'd forgotten for various reasons, mostly Hermione. He was tired but wanted to stay awake, to see if Ron would start to talk in his sleep again.
How long he stayed away, forcing his eyes to bore into the darkness of his bed canopy. He was startled by a soft pressure on the end of his bed and tried to reach for his glasses to see what it was. It was only when he felt sharp claws digging into his leg as they walked towards his chest that he recoiled.
'Crookshanks!' Harry whispered 'What re you doing here?'
Harry thought it a little dumb to expect the cat to respond but did so anyway. Crookshanks' only response way to lay himself down between the crook of Harry's body where he lay on his side. Harry could hear the cat purring as he got comfortable, his eyes illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. His head, Harry could see, was raised slightly and pointed through the darkness towards Ron's bed. Somehow, this made Harry feel safe; having Hermione's cat guarding him was strangely enough to make Harry grow drowsy.
The purring was dying away. The sound of Neville's usual snores was drifting into the background and into nothingness. Harry was slightly amused to find himself suddenly on a lawn, looking at a house he'd only seen once before. It was a grand manor, fallen into some disrepair. Ivy crawled upon the face of one side and many of the upper windows were broken; somehow Harry knew that boys from down in the village were responsible. But what village? Harry would have bet his Firebolt that there was a village near by, but wouldn't have bet his copy of Unfogging the Future on guessing its name. Or the name of the house, though he was equally as sure it had one.
Harry ventured towards the door, feeling oddly confident on such a warm night. That struck him as odd; it was the middle of a particularly cold winter yet it was quite warm here. He must be abroad, he reasoned. How could it be so warm if he wasn't? The handle of the door wasn't warm though, it was cold steel but at least it turned quietly enough. Harry had the overwhelming sensation to be quiet, so the well-oiled door handle was a major plus point.
The house was dusty inside; Harry was in a spacious kitchen whose cupboards looked as though they had never been opened. Harry found his way across to the kitchen door and tip-toed through it, is steps making no sound on the lino flooring. There was something upstairs, something Harry had to see, had to reach. He couldn't think for the life of him what it was but mild curiosity mingled with the electric thrill of dread was what eventually tipped Harry over the edge.
There was something about the stairs, though, something familiar; was it the banister? No. The carpet maybe? No. Hold on…there wasn't a carpet. There was a layer of dust many inches thick. That was it! That was what Harry found familiar. It wasn't the dust itself, but the appreciation of it for muffling his footsteps. That triggered a memory in Harry's brain. That's what reminded him of being here before, for now he knew where it was…and the thought froze him.
Harry finally regained control of his legs, or rather they took control of him. He wanted to move back, to edge downstairs and race away to safety. But his legs were taking him upwards, through the dust towards the only room with a light. It was flickering, as if from a dying fire but it was there.
Harry stopped at the door, heart pounding and pulse racing with a crippling sense of foreboding. The door opened involuntarily and Harry yelled without sound. Ron was on the floor, clearly dead with his open mouth frozen in a screaming position. There was another body next to him, but on no account was Harry going to look at it. Instead he listened to the high cackle of evil laughter that swam around his head, punctuated only by Ron yelling his name.
Hang on, wasn't he dead?
'Harry, HARRY! Wake up!'
Harry woke with a start, looking blindly around the darkness and flinging Crookshanks to the end of the bed, where he dug his talons into Harry's ankle. Harry wiped a hot trickle from his cheek and looked at Ron, who he could see was white despite the darkness.
'Ron! What's the matter? What's going on?' Harry said desperately.
'Nothing, nothing,' said Ron quietly, 'I…I just have to tell you something. I've had one funny dream to many, and so have you by the sounds of it. I…I think I'm in trouble Harry, I need help. Will you help me.'
'What? Now? What time is it?'
'I just need to talk before…before I cant. Please, Harry,' pleaded Ron.
'Ok. Lets go downstairs.'
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