Chapter Twenty
THE FORMER PRISONERS OF AZKABAN
Hermione's arm brushed against Harry's as she slipped into her seat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall for lunch the next day. He glanced up at her, offering her a small smile, and she returned it weakly. Knowing it to be one of her favorite foods, Harry expected her to go right for the dish sitting directly in front of her, but she made no motion for it. Instead, Hermione pushed her empty plate aside and pulled out her Potions textbook.
"Hermione?" questioned Harry. "Is everything all right?"
"Humph?" said Hermione, looking up for a brief second. She was flipping through the book, and she finally stopped her search on page three hundred twelve, which was the beginning of the reading Snape had assigned during their last class period. "Everything's fine, Harry."
"Aren't you hungry?" said Ron, but the words sounded quite garbled through his mouthful of food. He shot Harry a perplexed look when Hermione didn't respond. "Was Snape that awful?"
The day of the full moon and the few days surrounding it each month didn't seem like that much time, but it added up over the course of a school year, so someone always covered Professor Lupin's class during his involuntary absence. During the first term of the year, Dumbledore had taken a lot of the teaching responsibility, and McGonagall had done a lot in the second. Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and Vector had all taught an hour or two of Defense when necessary; almost all of the teachers had done something to make the transition go smoother-all the teachers except for Snape.
Lupin had given the Potions master instructions to continue along with the class's current topic of discussion, early resistance against the Dark Arts, but Snape would do no such thing. He insisted that the material should have been long since covered and turned the class into a work session for the O.W.L. essay. However, he'd put a certain evil spin to it, discussing with each student the direction they were taking.
Harry couldn't think of a student that didn't find the situation a bit nerve wracking. Poor Neville, who Snape had insisted go first, had exited Lupin's office looking like he was about to burst into tears. Sally-Ann had burst into tears, and Seamus was holding true to his claim that Snape's remarks had brought about a loss of appetite. Ron had come out cursing until he was red in the face that Snape didn't have a clue what he was doing and that he had every intention of writing his entire paper exactly opposite of what Snape had suggested.
Snape hadn't had anything to say about Harry's paper or his approach to it, something Harry contributed to the fact that he hadn't bothered looking at any of it. He'd just glared at Harry when he walked through the door to Lupin's office.
"The Dark Scar, huh?" he had sneered. "That's a pretty peculiar topic."
"It's not like I picked it," Harry had said through gritted teeth. Just being in the same room with his least favorite teacher was enough to make him angry. "The Sorting Hat chose for everyone."
"I know that," Snape had snapped. "Don't be disrespectful, Potter. I just find it... odd. It seems as if other, more suitable topics were still available at the time."
"The Sorting Hat is always right," Harry had retorted. Looking back, he couldn't remember what had made him act so short towards Snape. He wasn't even really angry with him.
"Not always," Snape had said sullenly, and he glared at Harry again. "Get out of here. I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to. Go get Granger for me."
And, with five minutes of class remaining, Hermione had been the last person to discuss her essay with Snape. It had taken them longer to get through it, judging by her late arrival in the Great Hall, as most students only needed five minutes. Harry had taken two, and Ron had needed six, but Hermione must have spent a solid twenty talking to him.
Hermione seemed to know what Harry was thinking. "Snape was Snape," she said, "and there's just more to my topic than most."
"Don't you want something to eat?" questioned Ron again.
"I'm not hungry," said Hermione. She looked up apologetically, and Harry noticed for the first time the dark lines under her eyes. He and Ron had gotten about four hours of sleep each, but they were functioning at a fairly normal level. Hermione wasn't. Harry was about to suggest she go see Madam Pomfrey, but she continued. "I forgot to do my Potions reading, and I really don't want to go to class unprepared."
"You need to eat something," said Harry, touching her arm. "You skipped breakfast. I did the reading. I can tell you what it covered."
"Yeah," piped Ron. "Harry and I take turns not doing the reading, and then we tell each-oops, I wasn't supposed to tell her that, was I?"
Harry shook his head, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I don't want you to tell me. I don't want to cheat," she said, putting an emphasis on the last part of her statement. Ron turned guiltily back to his plate, but Harry couldn't take his eyes off of Hermione. He was really starting to worry about her. Again.
Finally, Harry dropped his hand from Hermione's arm and tried to focus on his plate of food. Ron caught his eye, and Harry could see that they shared the same concern for Hermione, who seemed oblivious of her surroundings. She flipped to the next page, titled "Twenty-Seven Uses of Erumpent."
"I think she's ignoring us," said Ron loudly, obviously trying to catch Hermione's attention. She looked up but did not say anything, and Ron nodded vigorously as if her gesture proved his point. Harry couldn't help but agree. Ron stopped his nodding and cleared his throat. He looked to Harry sadly. "Maybe Trelawny was right about today."
"Ron," said Harry impatiently, "Trelawny predicted that today would be catastrophic. She predicted this weekend would be catastrophic. She thinks every day I live is catastrophic. She's batty."
They'd had Divination before Defense that morning, and Trelawny had started class gloating about her scratchy throat, as she claimed to have seen the illness coming weeks before. She'd taken great pleasure in foretelling upcoming tragedy for a skeptical Dean and a trembling Neville, and Lavender had squealed in happiness with the professor's prediction that she would soon have the attention of the a young man. With equal gusto, Trelawny had let the class out five minutes early, saying she hoped that the upcoming tragedy of great proportions would postpone itself.
"I'd say you could call having Snape for three hours in one day catastrophic," said Ron. Harry laughed appreciatively. The hook-nosed professor had just swaggered into the Great Hall and up to the staff table. He shot the Gryffindor table the usual contemptuous glance as he passed. While Ron had made no effort to lower his voice while insulting Snape, he suddenly lowered his tone. "And Fred and George are taking their Apparation tests in Hogsmeade today."
Harry let out a low whistle. "It's their eighteenth birthday?"
Ron nodded grimly. "A couple of weeks ago, actually, the first of April. But Mum insisted they raise some of their grades first."
"That sounds pretty accurate," said Harry, sniggering. He looked past Ron. "Speak of the-"
"Ron!" exclaimed George. Fred was on his other side.
"Splendid to see you, lad," greeted Fred, punching Ron's arm. It was in no way a gentle gesture, and Ron grimaced as he rubbed his shoulder.
"You'll have to excuse us, Harry," said George, seizing Ron's arm. Fred's hand automatically clamped down on the other. "We need to borrow ickle Ronniekins for a moment."
Ron looked absolutely terrified as his stocky older brothers removed him forcefully from his seat. They left no room for protest as they dragged him toward the other end of the table. Just as Ron disappeared from sight, Harry received a second shock as Hermione slammed her book shut next to him. He was started, but he smiled when he looked over to her.
"Done already?" questioned Harry. Hermione smiled weakly at him as she tucked a strand of her bushy hair behind her ear.
"It was only ten pages," said Hermione. She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry I was so short with you."
"You weren't short," said Harry. He expected her to fill her plate now that she was done with her reading, but she made no such movement. Harry studied his friend intently before continuing. "How'd things go with Snape?"
"Fine," said Hermione, but she broke eye contact with Harry.
"Fine?" questioned Harry, shooting a glare in the direction of the staff table. "What did he do?"
"Snape didn't do anything, Harry," said Hermione, "other than read my essay and comment on it, which was exactly what he did with everyone else."
"He didn't read my essay," said Harry pointedly. Wordlessly, he slipped an arm around her. "You know, you can tell me if something's wrong, right?"
"I know," said Hermione, and she looked up at him. "You've told me before."
"So what's wrong?" said Harry. "Are you tired from last night or is there something else I should know about?"
"I'm just tired." Her eyes darted away from his again, and Harry shook his head. He kissed her head and dropped his arm from her waist; he couldn't think to do anything else. Finally, he sighed.
"Humor me and eat something, will you?" suggested Harry. She opened her mouth, obviously to protest, but she shut it just as quickly. He smiled gratefully at Hermione as she reached across the table and took an apple from a bowl in the center of the table. "Good girl."
Hermione rolled her eyes as she took a bite. "You know," she said after swallowing, "you don't need to be so concerned, Harry. I really can take care of myself."
"Of course you can," said Harry. She didn't respond. "Hermione? I didn't mean to say anything to upset you, but if I did, I'm really sorry."
"I'm not upset," said Hermione, but she didn't meet his eye. Ron was shuffling his way back toward his two friends, looking positively green, but if he hadn't been, Harry would have heard her mutter under her breath, "Not with you at least."
"They have a new creation," said Ron mournfully, sitting back down across from Harry. "If they ever offer you anything to drink in the future, don't take it. They just poured something down my throat, and I can't see straight. I think it literally flipped my stomach inside out."
George clapped his shoulder. "Wasn't supposed to happen," he said apologetically.
"Yeah," said Fred, "it was supposed to be a trick hair growth juice, but I don't think we added enough sugar."
"Nah, we simmered it for two long," said George after looking at his younger brother critically. Ron's face continued to shift between shades of green and white. "Er, it could have been-"
"The green syrup," said Fred. "I knew we should have checked to make sure it really was Exmatin oil."
"Sorry, Ron," said George, clapping his little brother's shoulder again. "We'll fix it before we give you anymore. Come on, we'd better go."
"I don't want anymore!" moaned Ron as his brothers retreated. Harry tried to look sympathetic, but he practically choked trying to hold back his laughter.
"What did they give you?" asked Hermione. She had abandoned the apple, relieved that Harry's attention was no longer focused on her.
"I don't know," said Ron, dropping his head to the table. "It was awful, though. They tried acting all innocent, promising that it was a harmless little potion they'd concocted, but I wasn't about to try one of their concoctions, so they decided to have Lee help George hold me still while Fred poured the vile stuff down my throat."
"Sounds... pretty normal," said Harry. Fred and George didn't seem to think anything of pulling Ron aside to serve as a test dummy for their latest pranks; they did it with alarming frequency. Sometimes, he felt guilty knowing that he'd helped finance the continued torture, but he was usually able to push the feeling aside when Ron recovered from the pranks gone wrong or laughed good-naturedly at the ones that succeeded.
"Are you going to be okay, Ron?" said Hermione, concerned. Ron nodded slightly without really taking his head from the table. A few moments later, he looked up and took a sip of water. The color began to return to his face. He opened his mouth to say something but a bustle at the staff table stopped him. Dumbledore was standing before the students of Hogwarts, having just cast a silencing charm on the entirety of the Great Hall.
His expression was very grave, and Harry thought back to several hours before. Dumbledore had not been present at breakfast. His mind shifted again, this time to what the headmaster had said to him and Hermione and Ron early that morning in the plaque room. The seasoned wizard cleared his throat, and Harry had a feeling that every pair of ears in the Great Hall would have been listening to him intently even without the use of a silencing charm.
"As the hour grows short, I promise not to take more than a few moments of your time," said Dumbledore. "The news I am about to deliver is urgent and requires immediate recognition. The upper level Ministry officials, excluding Minister Bom himself, have asked I not pass this information on to you yet, but I know it will be just a matter of time before you find out on your own. I will neither leave you in the dark nor sugar coat about last night's events.
"As we sat down for dinner here last night, a terrible attack began on the island housing Azkaban Fortress. Over a hundred Death Eaters stormed the prison, and the dementors immediately took to their side. Those imprisoned as servants of Voldemort were released, and all other prisoners were executed. The fortress was abandoned. The only witnesses to the even were Ministry-employed house elves. The Ministry learned of the situation shortly after midnight when it failed to receive its daily correspondence from the dementors. It has been sorting out the events of last night since Aurors arrived early this morning, confirming all that I have told you."
The Great Hall was silent in the moments that followed Dumbledore's announcement. Harry found his own gaze passing from Hermione and Ron, sharing shocked expressions with his two best friends. Azkaban was a horrible place, but it was a necessary place. The Death Eaters imprisoned there were, without a doubt, the most deserving of it. It was their freedom, not the fall of the fortress, which made the event so catastrophic.
Harry swallowed hard and returned his attention to Dumbledore. The headmaster had laced the fingers of his hands together and was looking down at them. He did not look like he was about to speak, so Harry's eyes found themselves wandering to the Slytherin table. Marks was sitting on the opposite side of his table as Harry, but he was located almost directly across from him. He looked oddly pleased, and he reached over to whack Flint in the back of the head. Flint looked stunned but quickly lost his blank expression. He soon wore a similar expression. Their behavior had him perplexed, yet the sound of Dumbledore clearing his throat took Harry's attention away from it.
"This event has far more meaning than even I can understand," said the headmaster quietly. "It was the first confirmed Death Eater activity in almost six months, and I will leave you to draw your own conclusion. Do not turn to ignorance in the face of such severity. You are dismissed to your afternoon classes."
* * *
The combined class of fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins reached the Potions dungeon before Snape, something that could probably be attributed to the convergence of the professors at the staff table following Dumbledore's announcement. They had been talking in hushed whispers when Harry had passed by with his friends. Now, five minutes after class usually started, he and Ron made their way over to Hermione's seat. Snape was constantly switching around the seating to keep the three friends apart.
"I can't believe they really raided Azkaban," said Ron in a hushed whisper. He'd said the same thing twice already. Around the room, all the students were talking quietly with their friends.
"I can," said Harry quietly. "Don't you remember what Dumbledore said about the dementors last year? It was like he knew, even then, that Voldemort would want them in his ranks."
"He did know it was coming," said Hermione suddenly. It was the first time she had spoken since the boys had moved to her desk. Harry had plopped down in Seamus's seat next to her, and Ron was leaning against the table across from him. "This was the news that he was waiting for last night. This was what he saw coming for months."
"I know," said Harry. He looked down, his finger tracing the outline of a heart someone had carved into the desk. "What do you think he's going to do next?"
Both Hermione and Ron knew that he was referring to Voldemort. "He's been lying low between all his attacks so far, so I don't know. Hopefully he'll do the same. It'll give the Ministry a chance to work through this."
"But you heard Dumbledore. The Ministry doesn't even want admit what happened. The only one that's being forthcoming about it is Bom, and I get the feeling that even he doesn't get a lot of backing," said Harry.
"And he can't do much without his council's unanimous approval," finished Ron grimly. "It's all of Fudge's people, still, you know. Because Fudge stepped down, Bom was never elected to the position, so he didn't get to nominate his own advisors. Puts him in a real tough spot."
"He's considered a temporary until August, isn't he?" said Hermione knowingly. Ron nodded, but Harry looked up, confused.
"Temporary?" he questioned.
"Yes," said Hermione, nodding earnestly. Harry noticed at once that she wasn't as pale as she usually was when down in the dungeons. It seemed as if there was something about the area that drained her of her color and energy. "When a Minister steps down or dies or something, the next Minister is considered a temporary for one year after they are appointed. After that, the governing bodies at the Ministry decide to keep him or to elect another Minister. If they keep him, he'll be able to substitute his own advisors for Fudge's, and things will run much smoother."
"Right," said Harry. "So that's a good thing, right?"
"Provided nothing else major happens between now and then," said Ron darkly. "Fudge's followers will probably keep Bom from acting otherwise. Didn't I tell you about Dad and Percy's squabbles over Easter? Anyway, Dad can't wait to get the last trace of Fudge out of office, but Percy seems to think that Bom is unreliable. Loads of arguments on that-"
The door to the Potions dungeon swung open, and Snape stepped in. He shot the class a stereotypical glare. "Well?" he sneered. "What are you waiting for? Class began ten minutes ago. You should have already divided in groups of three and set up your supplies in my absence. Don't tell me you're too elementary to do so by yourself. Very well. Finnigan, work with Longbottom and Patil. Mr. Moon, Miss Bulstrode and Miss Zabini, if you would. Perks and Thomas, join Mr. Nott."
Snape went on around the room, typically pairing Gryffindors with Gryffindors and Slytherins with Slytherins. Harry and Ron and Hermione shared a look. Usually, he made a point to put the most unpleasant of the Slytherin lot with Gryffindors. He also always paired Hermione with Seamus and Neville; Ron always had to work with Dean and Blaise Zabini, while Harry worked with whichever two Slytherins looked surliest (or stupidest) that day.
The Potions master paused as he passed the trio. He looked at Hermione without his usual malice, and Harry could have sworn he saw something that closely resembled pity in Snape's eyes for a split second before he snapped, "Granger, Potter, and Weasley, very well. Get to work now! I would hope you all know what to do after the countless class periods we have spent discussing this draught."
The first hour of the class passed uneventfully. Disaster was narrowly averted when Neville almost poured a flask of vanishing tonic into his cauldron, but other than that, the time was spent dicing herbs and measuring liquids out slowly for the advanced vanishing solution. It granted an hour of invisibility to anyone that drank it. At the front of the classroom, Snape was concocting the restorative draught because he had decided that letting each group's tester wander around, invisible, for the next hour was a bad idea.
"Do you have the fluxweed crushed yet, Ron?" questioned Hermione. She was alternatively stirring the concoction and glancing at the directions in the textbook. Harry was carefully spooning the crushed ginger roots into Ron's cauldron per directions.
"Yep," said Ron. He held up the cup of them for her to see. "Can I just dump them in or is there something special I have to do?"
"You can dump them in," said Hermione, "but only after Harry's added the rest of the ginger root. Do you have half of it in yet? Tell me when you do; I'm to stop stirring then."
"One more spoonful," said Harry. Hermione gradually slowed and then stopped her stirring all together. She stepped back, and Harry resumed his careful adding of the ginger roots. When he finished, Ron dumped in the powdery fluxweed and stepped back. "So what do we now? Just wait for it to bubble?"
"That's what the directions say," said Ron. Harry was surprised Hermione had not answered him. She was leaning against a nearby table, her hand on her temple. Ron was watching the potion intently for bubbling, so Harry crossed over to her.
"Are you okay?"
Hermione's hand separated from her head, and she looked up at him. The first thing he noticed was how pale she had grown. "Just a headache, Harry. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" pressed Harry. His hand touched her arm lightly, and she smiled at him weakly.
"I'm fine," she repeated, and Harry nodded. He didn't believe her, but he knew full well there was no point in pressing her farther. "It's just-"
"It's just what, Hermione?" questioned Harry.
"Did you hear that?" Hermione interrupted. She seemed to have forgotten she was in the middle of saying something else.
"Did I hear what?" said Harry. Now, his concern was changing into confusion.
"Nothing," said Hermione quickly. She turned around suddenly, consulting her Potions text once more. Harry shook his head and went back to Ron and their potion. Ron was stirring again, so Harry knew it must have bubbled pretty quickly.
"She okay?" questioned Ron. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he never got the words out. He glanced at Hermione. One moment, she was walking towards them; the next, she had frozen in place, almost as if she were paralyzed. The next thing Harry knew was she was falling, hitting her head against the table in the process. Potion forgotten, Harry and Ron rushed to her side.
"What's going on back here?"
An irritated Snape was lumbering down the row of desks toward them. He looked displeased, but the expression left his face when he saw Hermione. She'd blacked out for a second and was now clutching the back of her head, grimacing in pain. Harry had helped her sit up and still had his arm around her.
"What happened?" Snape barked.
"I-I think I fainted," stammered Hermione. It was the first thing she had spoken since doing so, and the effort seemed to leave her exhausted.
"Nothing in that potion would cause you to faint," said Snape sourly. He glared at Harry and Ron. "I would not normally turn to the two of you for answers, but..." The Potions Master raised an eyebrow.
"She did faint," said Harry crossly. He returned Snape's level stare.
"It wasn't anything in the-" whimpered Hermione. She didn't finish. Ron had taken hold of her other arm gently, and he and Harry had helped her stand. Snape looked her over, and he finally nodded.
"Take her up to the hospital wing, Weasley," said Snape. "Make sure she hasn't damaged that over-filled head of hers. Potter, get back to work."
Harry glowered at Snape as he watched his two best friends retreat from the dungeon. Snape stalked back to his own potion, and Harry had but no choice to continue work on theirs. He wanted to make sure Hermione was okay, not peel a half dozen shrivelfigs. He was about to add the peeled plant to the potion when he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. The room seemed to chill.
"You're going to fail," someone whispered. "This time you're going to fail. You won't succeed, no, not against me you won't."
Harry felt a jolt and looked frantically around the room. No one else in the class seemed to have heard the voice. They had all returned to their vanishing draught after Hermione had left the room with Ron. He took several deep breathes to calm himself and turned back to his potion. However, something stopped him dead in his tracks.
Harry's fingers flew to his forehead, and under them, the pain in his scar intensified.
* * *
The pain in Harry's scar subsided gradually throughout the rest of Potions. Still, he had trouble concentrating, even after it had reached the dull throb of a minor headache, and accidentally botched the vanishing draught in its concluding step, but the zeros Snape recorded were the least of his worries. If anything, Harry was more concerned about the piercing shriek he expected to hear when he had to inform Hermione that he'd just smashed her perfect Potions grade to smithereens.
Taking the stairs up from the dungeons two at a time, Harry broke away from his fellow Gryffindors and headed straight for the hospital wing. His forehead was still tingling, but he could feel the pain subsiding further with each step he took away from the dungeons. His mind was too jumbled, however, with worries about Hermione and thoughts about Voldemort to make any such correlation. He was short the vaguest notion of what could have caused either incident, and he hoped a word with Ron or Hermione could straighten it all out.
Harry had no sooner caught sight of the hospital wing door than he saw it swing open. A very familiar tall, gangly redhead stepped out and shut the door behind him. Upon seeing Harry, Ron scurried down the corridor to meet his friend. Harry started to open his mouth to ask about how their friend was doing, but Ron beat him to the answer.
"Hermione's fine," said Ron, reading Harry's mind. "She's still a little shaky, but Madam Pomfrey's talking to her about it now."
"Did she make you leave?" questioned Harry.
"She just about kicked me out," said Ron. "She marched me to the door. The whole ear-pinch thing."
"Ear-pinch thing?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, ear-pinch thing, you know, when-" Ron stopped short. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Say, what's wrong with you? You look like you should be the one in there, not her." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the hospital wing. "Did you screw the potion up that badly?"
"Worse," admitted Harry. He added quickly, "But that's not it."
"Then what?" Ron looked at him quizzically, and Harry opened his mouth to tell about his scar hurting, but he saw a couple of small Hufflepuff boys helping their friend limp in the direction of the hospital wing.
"So I can't see Hermione right now?" asked Harry. Ron shook his head.
"Not until after dinner," said Ron, "but what's going-"
Harry cut him off. "Come on, I'll tell you when we're back in Gryffindor."
Five minutes later, the door to their dorm room locked securely behind them, Harry and Ron sat facing each other, their desk chairs in the center of the room. Harry glanced from the floor to Ron, debating on whether or not he would end up sounding crazy.
"My scar started hurting," said Harry quietly. "Hurting like it's never hurt before, even when Voldemort himself had a hand on me. It was right after you left with Hermione."
Ron had paled considerably. "How long has it been since it hurt?"
"The last time it really hurt? Early last summer," Harry replied slowly, "on the evening of the third task. It wasn't just pain this time, though. The pain actually came second. The dungeon seemed to grow cold-"
"The dungeons are always cold," said Ron uneasily.
"Colder than usual," Harry amended. "It was like something was pricking the back of my neck, and then I heard this eerie, disembodied voice. It told me that I was going to fail, that I wouldn't succeed against it. I don't even know what it was."
"Did anyone else hear it?" Ron wanted to know.
"I don't think so. I was distracted by the pain," said Harry. He paused. "No, they couldn't have. I looked around, and none of them had looked up or around or anything."
Ron let out a low whistle. "It's not a good thing to be hearing things, Harry, even if you're a wizard."
"I wasn't hearing anything!" said Harry defensively. "You said the exact same thing when I kept hearing the basilisk, and it turned out I wasn't going crazy then!"
"Sorry," said Ron. Suddenly, he jumped up. "Parseltongue! That's it! You're the only Parselmouth in the entire school, Harry! Was the voice speaking Parseltongue?"
"I don't know. It was just an ordinary whisper," said Harry uncertainly. It had been a couple of years since his rare ability had come into question, and he hadn't even considered it in this situation. "The basilisk always hissed."
"Maybe," said Ron. He sounded equally uncertain. "The Chamber of Secrets couldn't have been opened again, could it? There's still one Malfoy sneaking around school, after all."
"No, not Malfoy," said Harry. He cleared his throat and clarified. "Not Draco. Besides, the basilisk is dead."
"Not Draco," muttered Ron. He slumped back into his chair. "Malfoy's got something to do with this. I swear that filthy little bastard as something to do with this. He's nothing but trouble-"
"Do you want to end up like Snape?" questioned Harry quietly. His words cut through Ron's grumbling.
"What?" exclaimed Ron. "Like Snape?"
"Snape hates me because he hated my dad," said Harry quietly. "He hates Sirius and Lupin because they were my dad's friends. And I'm willing to bet a safe full of Galleons that he'd hate my dad just the same if he was still alive. Malfoy might be the most annoying git we've ever encountered, but nothing good is going to come out of that hatred and distrust."
"But what if-" Ron shook his head, interrupting his own thoughts. "I still don't like him," he said stubbornly. "I swear his story is just too convenient."
"What brought him up, anyway?" said Harry. He didn't wait for an answer. "I want to figure out what's going on just as badly as you do, and it won't do any good to go around blaming people."
"Yes, yes," said Ron, but Harry heard Malfoy's name intermingled in Ron's mutterings, along with a long stream of curse words. "So no Malfoy, no Chamber of Secrets, no basilisk, and probably no Parseltongue."
"Maybe Parseltongue," said Harry. "We-wait, what was it that Hermione heard? Remember, it was right before she fainted! She asked us if we'd heard something, and we hadn't!"
"I remember, but-" Ron paused hesitantly. He cleared his throat. "But it won't be any use. She's drawn a blank on anything within five minutes of passing out. She seemed okay momentarily in the dungeon, but she started muttering about something that made no sense on the way up to the hospital wing. I asked her about it five minutes later, when Madam Pomfrey went to get something, and she couldn't remember it at all."
"That's just great," said Harry. He didn't realize it, but he'd been clenching and unclenching his fist. On the other hand, Ron seemed to notice, and he shot an odd look.
"Okay there?"
"Yeah, fine," said Harry. He stood, wiping his hands unnecessarily on his robes. His eyes swept the room, looking for the answers that weren't there. "Remember that pact we made this summer? About staying friends?"
"What about it?" asked Ron.
"I think we've got the friendship part down," said Harry, "so let's change it. Why don't we focus on being a couple of normal, sixteen-year-old wizards? For once, I'd really like to worry about passing advanced courses and choosing a career. I don't want another year hearing unexplained voices and wondering why one of my best friends has to spend half of her time in the hospital wing."
"We can do that," said Ron, and he smiled at Harry. The action somehow contradicted his words, and Harry knew at once. Things were never going to be normal. They never had been. He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, after all. "Normal."
"Normal," repeated Harry, and he couldn't help but kick at the floor once for good measure. "How about we ignore all of the obvious hints Professor Sprout dropped last week about a quiz in Herbology and play some wizard's chess?"
Ron was at his trunk and digging for his battered but faithful set of pieces a second later. "Chess until dinner, and then we go visit Hermione. Fancy a flutter?"
"Only if I can bet on you winning," replied Harry.
* * *
"Come on Ron," said Harry. They had just finished dinner and left the Great Hall. Harry sighed, withdrawing his wand. He prodded Ron hard in the back. "Come on, move!"
"This hallways isn't as big as that room in there," Ron was muttering. "It seems awfully familiar, though... wait, who did you say you were again?"
"Move, Ron," said Harry impatiently. "Don't make me use one of those ridiculous hexes Hermione looked up out of curiosity the other night. I've actually been dying to try the mobility spell, but I'm not sure if I remember all the steps. Pity if I tried it on you and did it wrong."
"Something the matter with Ron, Harry?"
Harry whirled around to see Nearly Headless Nick hovering in the air above them, a look of ghostly concern in his face. When he was about to open his mouth in explanation, Harry was interrupted by another odd burst from Ron.
"Who are you, sir?" said Ron quizzically. Nick looked alarmed. Harry held up a hand to halt his baffled exclamation.
"Fred and George decided to... wait, you know how they are. A prank," said Harry simply, and he sighed. "Ron here was their unassuming victim. Apparently they slipped a bit of Weasley's Bewilderment and Wonderment Tonic into his pumpkin juice. They promise it's only temporary. I hope they're telling the truth."
"Ron?" said Ron, sounding more bewildered than before. "You might have told me already, but who's he?"
"Just a guy we know," said Harry. The befuddled redhead seemed satisfied, and he began to walk hesitantly down the corridor, stopping every few feet to examine the castle's walls.
Nick's concerned eyes followed Ron, but he eventually turned back to Harry. "A highly concentrated Missing Memory potion, eh?"
"You guessed it," said Harry. Ron had stopped running his fingers across the wall and had turned to look back at his best friend and their house ghost in confusion. Harry couldn't help but snigger.
"There's a practical joker or two in every lot. Runs in circles, that does," said Nick fondly. "Charles Darin and Muesus Fletching caused most of the trouble when I was here. Both of them were brilliant. They once set a spell on the whole of Slytherin that had them walking backwards for a week. Nearly lost their wand arms in consequence, but they always claimed it was well worth it."
"How about that pumpkin juice?" interrupted Ron. He squinted at Harry. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Four more minutes," said Harry, glancing at his watch. Ron didn't seem to realize Harry had answered and squatted to touch the floor. "It'd be a good laugh anytime but now."
"You're heading in the direction of the hospital wing, no?" said Nick, studying Harry intently. "Do send Miss Granger my wishes for a speedy recovery."
"You know what happened?"
"Down in the Potions lab?" His smile managed to be warm despite the fact that he was a ghost. "Peeves informed me-rather gleefully, but that's not the point-of the incident. It's unfortunate, and I wish her my best; I've always liked young Hermione."
"I'll pass the message along," said Harry. His attention turned to Ron again, but Nick continued.
"She reminds me of someone I used to know," said Nick, and the fond look of reminiscence was upon his pearly face once more. "It all runs in circles, really. Her name was Lucy, and I do admit I fancied her a bit. She was the cleverest witch of my year, and I find myself wishing to address your friend with the name of mine."
"Am I your friend?" said Ron.
Harry ignored him, but Nick chuckled appreciatively. "Freemont Jordan, that one reminds me of. There's a face to associate every one of you with." Seeing the look on Harry's face, Nick just chuckled again. "If you ever die for five hundred years, Harry, you'll understand the accompanying boredom."
"Who am I like?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Before Nick could respond, Ron stood very suddenly and looked at the floor, perplexed.
"Did I miss something?" questioned Ron. "Why was I examining the floor?"
"Er, it's a long story," said Harry, and Nick nodded through a round of hearty guffaws. "Don't you remember anything about dinner?"
"Of course," said Ron indignantly. "You nearly chocked to death on a sausage, and I thought I was going to die laughing."
"What about the pumpkin juice?" said Harry innocently.
"It was rather good tonight, wasn't it?" Ron looked from Harry to Nick as both boy and ghost burst out laughing. "Is there something I should going on that I should know about?"
"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "It was nice talking to you, Nick. We'll see you back in the tower tonight."
"Ah, yes, you will," said Nick. "Just remember, my best to Miss Granger."
"I'll do it," said Harry cheerfully. The ghost started to depart swiftly backwards down the corridor, but Harry was suddenly struck with the realization that his question hadn't been answered. "Nick! Who-"
"You, Harry," said Nick, smiling almost sadly. "A wizard all your own. I'm afraid we will have to leave it at that for tonight. My best to Miss Granger, if you please, all my best..."
The Gryffindor ghost disappeared, and Harry was still staring at the spot he had just haunted when Ron's sudden exclamation cut through his thoughts.
"They got me, didn't they?" said Ron angrily. "What did they give me? I can't remember a second of the last quarter hour, and I want to know why!"
"Weasley's Bewilderment and Wonderment Tonic," said Harry. "Ron is you, by the way."
Leaving Ron to ponder that, Harry took off at a brisk pace in the direction of the hospital wing. It didn't take more than a few seconds for Ron to catch up. He was scowling.
"Those two are out of control, I swear," said Ron. He also had a few choice words for his older brothers. "How bad was it?"
"You asked me who Ron was," said Harry, and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. He quickly began to count off on his fingers. "Seven times."
"But no one saw me?"
"Just Nearly Headless Nick and I," assured Harry. They were just outside of the door to the hospital wing. "Don't worry."
"What were the two of you talking about?" Ron wanted to know.
"Something about how people go in circles, I think," said Harry. "He was telling me the names of people that you and Hermione and Fred and George remind him of. Says he hasn't had anything much better to do with the last five hundred years of his death."
"Sounds depressing," said Ron. He stopped at the door to the hospital wing, but Harry didn't have the same hesitation and pushed the door open.
The Hufflepuff first year they had seen being helped to the hospital by his friends was fast asleep in the bed closest to the door, and a Ravenclaw Harry had often seen with Anna was resting on the opposite side of the room. Farther back, not far from Madam Pomfrey's office, was Hermione. She was sitting against a wall of pillows piled onto one of the beds, and the two chairs set up opposite of her had one lone occupant. There was no mistaking the greasy black hair.
"Harry! Ron!" said Hermione brightly when she saw them file through the door. Sure enough, the figure in the chair turned, and Professor Snape looked at the two boys with a look of utter contempt. Harry ignored him, brushing past him, and acted in the same manner he would have had if the Potions master weren't there. He hugged Hermione and kissed her cheek. Ron hugged her also.
"Potter and Weasley," said Snape. He sounded even more displeased then he looked, and he stood abruptly. "I should have known. Granger, I will expect be expecting you to stay after class on Friday to make up today's lesson. You too, Weasley."
Harry and Ron watched the Potions master retreat sourly from the hospital wing. Neither of them moved until he slammed the door quite loudly. The Hufflepuff boy stirred, but he did not wake up. Once Snape was gone, Harry and Ron both sat down heavily on either side of Hermione.
"What was he doing here?" demanded Ron. Hermione visibly tensed.
"He was talking to me, that's all," said Hermione.
"Are you okay?" said Harry, choosing to ignore her formal tone. His glasses had somehow gone askew, and when he reached up to straighten them, his fingertips lightly grazed Hermione's skin. She quivered, but she did not recoil. She did, however, bite her lip.
"I'm fine," said Hermione, but her voice betrayed her. She looked at her two best friends with wide eyes. "Do you think I'm going nuts?"
"Nuts?" repeated Ron. His expression changed swiftly, going from baffled to furious. "Of course you aren't nuts! Who had the nerve to suggest that? Was it Snape? Just wait until-"
"It wasn't Snape," said Hermione, but she wouldn't meet either boy's eyes. "They-Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Snape-all must think I'm losing it. Like I'm going to break, that's how they're treating me. It's not so hard to take from Madam Pomfrey, and Professor McGonagall has been more than kind, but Snape..." Her voice faltered, and the boys took it as a cue. Ron's arm went protectively around her shoulders, and Harry's hand found hers. "I can't take it from him. He's obviously under the impression I've truly lost it, and I simply can't handle that kind of pity from him!"
"You aren't loosing it, `Mione," said Harry simply. The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the door to the nurse's office swung open.
"It's good that he's left; you do need your rest," said Madam Pomfrey cheerfully, but her cheerfulness disappeared when she saw Harry and Ron. "If it's not one, it's the two of you."
"Sorry?" offered Ron. He didn't sound very sincere.
"Not too long," said Madam Pomfrey sternly. "Hermione needs some sleep, and I don't want to have to kick you out-again."
"Not too long," echoed Harry, which satisfied the school nurse. She retreated back into the office. Harry was pleased, but Ron looked dumbfounded.
"Sleep?" questioned Ron. "I thought you were going to get to leave tonight!"
Hermione sighed. "I know, I know," she said. "That was before McGonagall decided to get in touch with my roommates in her concern, and they just so happened to blab about how sick I've been lately-"
"How sick?" interrupted Harry, and Hermione paled. Ron had an inquisitive look on his face.
"I've been feeling rather ill for the last several weeks, but it's nowhere near as bad as she's making it out to be," said Hermione with a nervous laugh. She added dismissively, "I'm just turning into Hagrid."
"You were sick and you didn't tell us?" Ron looked scandalized.
"I told you," said Hermione weakly. "I said I had a slight headache the other day!"
"That's practically lying," said Ron grumpily. He pulled away from her, crossing his arms across his chest. "Feeling really sick is a far cry from having a slight headache, Hermione."
"Maybe now isn't the time for this conversation," said Harry reluctantly. Hermione looked at him gratefully. He ignored Ron's scowl. "Why do the teachers think you're losing it?"
"Well, Professor McGonagall commented on my `noticeable change in behavior,'" said Hermione. She continued quietly, looking away. "Madam Pomfrey knows what happened, so she's a little more understanding. She thinks I need some kind of outside intervention with my emotions."
"Outside intervention?" questioned Ron.
"Yes," said Hermione, waving her hand. "Counseling and therapy and things like that, you know. I personally wouldn't object if Lockhart turned up tomorrow and offered to perform a memory charm."
Harry's other hand had moved to her back, rubbing it comforting, slow circles. He didn't know what to make of that comment, so he asked, "So McGonagall doesn't know?"
Hermione shook her head. "Madam Pomfrey said that the only other person that knows is Dumbledore," she said quietly. "It doesn't matter."
"What about Snape?" pressed Ron. "Why does he think you're losing it?"
"Snape's just being Snape," said Hermione stiffly. Harry hesitated, and he took a deep breath.
"Hermione, if Snape was being Snape, he wouldn't be concerned with you in the slightest," said Harry honestly. Hermione looked down, and Harry realized her eyes had filled with tears.
"He knows," said Hermione softly. "I don't know how he figured it out, but he approached me with the knowledge this morning in Defense. Oh, I feel so stupid!"
"Huh?" said Ron.
"What do you mean?" said Harry gently. "I don't see why you feel stupid. As much as you hate him, you have to admit Snape's pretty brilliant."
"It's my own fault that he knows," said Hermione softly. "Have I really been acting that differently lately? All the teachers seem to think so, and Snape was trying to piece together a possible explanation. He was really just shooting in the dark, at first, but then he said-he said-and I burst into tears."
"Crying doesn't make you stupid," said Ron. Hermione didn't seem to hear him.
"He thinks I'm going to break," said Hermione dully, "but he's wrong. I'm already broken. Hermione Granger, damaged goods. That's me."
"Don't say that," barked Harry. His tone surprised him, and Ron and Hermione turned to him in their own disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but he found that it had gone dry. Suddenly, Ron jumped in.
"Harry's right," said Ron. "You're too strong for this, Hermione. You have every right to be upset, but what happened-well, it isn't going to break you. You'll get through it, and you'll be stronger than ever."
"I don't seem to be getting over it," said Hermione.
"Getting through it is different than getting over it," said Harry gently. He loosed his grip on her hand, but she still held his. She seemed to be examining it, and he realized she was tracing over a faint scar he'd gotten years before. At the age of seven, he'd broken a lamp, and Uncle Vernon's extreme anger had led to several misdirected blows. Hermione didn't know this, but she looked up at him suddenly.
Staring into her eyes for those few brief moments, it all seemed to make sense to Harry. She'd relied on both Harry and Ron for support in the last few weeks, but she had always seemed more comfortable with Harry. Now, he realized it was because he could better understand what she was coming from. He cleared his throat.
"Getting through it is being able to survive it and grow through it," said Harry. "Getting over it is forgetting. I don't know if even a memory charm could make you forget."
"No," said Hermione. There was silence for a few moments, but in those few moments, her tears stopped, and a look of resolve crossed her face. Finally, it was Madam Pomfrey that broke the silence.
"Five minutes," called the school nurse, "before the two of you have to leave. You, dear, need to eat dinner, and then it's straight to bed."
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."
The three friends laughed slightly as their answers blended together; the chorused response caused the nurse to smile slightly and shut the door of her office once more.
"We should probably go," said Harry. He pulled his hand from Hermione's quite reluctantly. "Are you going to be okay?"
Something had replaced the fear that had been in her eyes earlier. It was determination.
"I'll be fine," said Hermione.
"You will be," agreed Ron. He stood and hesitated for a moment before leaning down and hugging her.
"He's right, you know," said Harry, and he grinned slightly. "You have the two of us after all."
"Oh, you," said Hermione. She smiled genuinely and kissed his cheek. The gesture had become so common between the two of them that Harry had stopped blushing every time. It just felt right, and there was no arguing with that.
"We'll see you tomorrow," said Ron.
"If Madam Pomfrey won't let me go to class," called Hermione, "bring me my assignments!"
"We will," said Harry, and Ron had practically run to the door to keep from laughing. He started to chuckle but suddenly stopped. He didn't look at all happy anymore. Harry was completely perplexed. "What is it?"
"I still want to know what Snape was doing in there," said Ron. "If Madam Pomfrey didn't tell any of the teachers, I don't know how he'd know just what happened."
"Maybe he-" Harry stopped. He shrugged uncertainly. "Maybe he's a good guess. I don't know."
"Yes, well," Ron muttered darkly as they set off in the direction of the Gryffindor tower, "if I find out he's involved at all-" He trailed off, a threatening note in his voice.
"I'm sure he's not," said Harry, but he felt his stomach give a little flip. There was no way Snape could have been involved with what happened to her in the Forbidden Forest, was there? Ron caught his gaze.
"No, I'm not saying that," said Ron, and even he looked a little horrified. "I guess I'm just saying that I'll be killing him with my bare hands if... you know what I mean."
Harry nodded. Unfortunately, he did know what Ron meant.
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