A Galleon For Your Thoughts

shaz124

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 02/11/2009
Last Updated: 02/11/2009
Status: in_progress

Hermione senses Harry is pulling away from everyone after the happenings in the Dept. of Mysteries. She rashly decides to use a little-known and little-tested method to keep tabs on Harry over the summer hols. Does her decision ultimately result in a great boon? Or will it be her ultimate folly?

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

A/N: I’m not sure if this is first Hermione-centric fanfic, but I can say this is the first one I’ve put any serious thought into. Given the fact that I am male, I’m curious how close I am to everyone’s perception Hermione’s character. Please review and let me know. Thanks.

My life is still quite hectic at the moment, but this story won’t leave me alone.

A Galleon for Your Thoughts

by Shaz124

Chapter 1: Most Potente Potions Revisited

Wed., June 26th, 1996

The days following my return from the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries were the most painful that I could ever recall. I was injured physically during the battle held there. But now, ten days after the fact, I’m feeling better—in the physical sense anyhow. My wounds are now healed with a very light scar acting as a sole corporeal reminder with an occasional ache popping up now and again.

As bad as my wounds to flesh and bone were, I’m nowhere near set to rights. My emotions have become a greater source of pain. My thoughts seem akin to the behaviour of a whirling dervish. My future and friends dominate the majority of them.

Have I closed any opportunities that I ever had for working in the Department of Mysteries—or any department in the Ministry for that matter? Will we all be charged as criminals for breaking into the Ministry? Will we be in trouble at school, or worse, expelled from school? Is Professor McGonagall going to remove me as Gryffindor Prefect? What’s going to happen to Harry, Ron and me now? I know that Ginny told me that Ron is recovering well at Saint Mungo’s, but will it be a full recovery? And Harry—what’s wrong with him? What about Harry?

What about Harry?

That’s the one question that just seems to hang there. He has only been to see me once since I awoke. The conversation was mainly consumed by uncomfortable periods of silence, which is very unusual for us. And he rarely met my eyes. I already know about Sirius being gone through others, but that was not introduced. Harry looks to have dammed up his emotions behind a high wall and refuses to let them out. That in and of itself is not out of the ordinary as Harry is a very private person by nature. The fact that he won’t even let me in is what worries me most for all sorts of reasons.

What if Harry is blaming himself for his godfather being killed? What if Harry blames himself for all of us being injured during the fight? What if he blames me for not being there to help him? What if he blames Sirius’ death on me? What if he is cutting me off? W-What if he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore?

I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes that seem to flow without call on the last thought. To me, that would be a fate worse than death. All Hollow’s Eve of ’91 was life-changing night for me.

** Flashback (Courtesy of JKR’s HP and the SS, US ed.) **

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped -- it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand -- not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over -- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it -- dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh -- troll bogies."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

** End Flashback **

The scary experience I had that night still resonates through my dreams, but the fact that I meant enough to Harry for him to risk his life to save me outstrips the fear. The friendships I forged that night pulled me from a horribly isolated and lonely existence that I had hoped to leave behind in the muggle world. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ronald dearly, but I know that he wouldn’t even remotely consider being my friend if it hadn’t been for Harry. Without Harry’s intervention, I probably would have died. If not, I still would’ve been the scorned know-it-all that nobody wanted to be around. If Ron were to remove himself from my life—well, fourth year was a good example of just such a situation. As long as Harry supports me, I would be able to manage just fine. If Harry were removed from my life however, I’m not sure what I would do. Each scenario is just as heart wrenching as the next. I must make sure that doesn’t happen.

~*~*~*

Fri., June 28th, 1996

I was released from the hospital wing a few days ago with instructions to come back for potions both before bed and before the noon hour. It was the same day that Ron returned from Saint Mungo’s with similar instructions. I guess they figured that if the two of us follow the same timetable that we would be more likely to keep each other on schedule.

Since the fifth and seventh years had just finished their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams respectively last week, this week is being spent by most that weren’t recovering from injuries as a week to relax outside. (Thank Merlin that Ginny and Luna weren’t injured seriously enough to prevent them from sitting their OWLs.)

Ron and I have both tried to track down Harry to talk to him, but he has been conspicuously missing since my release. After two days of looking, we asked Professor McGonagall if she had any news on Harry. Her only response was to escort us to the Headmaster’s Office.

The Deputy Head’s features contorted unflatteringly as she prepared herself to speak a password she must consider to be nearly as unflattering, "Purple Flurp." The stone gargoyle slid aside as Ron and I exchanged equally stumped looks the choice of password. "The headmaster is expecting you," the deputy stated before she turned on her heel and swiftly departed.

A few moments after stepping onto the turning spiral stairs, we stood before what we assumed to be the inner door to Professor Dumbledore’s office. We saw the door latch open and heard the wizened wizard’s voice even before Ron curled his knuckles to knock, "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, do come in and sit down." After we made ourselves comfortable in the chintz armchairs, the professor started anew. "Before we get started, I wish to ask how the two of you are feeling."

Ron looked over and deferred to me, "I supposed we are feeling as well as could be expected."

"Yes, quite so Miss Granger," he commented solemnly. "The cloak of death once again shrouds the end of another school year. I had hoped that Harry, for once, could pass through an entire school year without strife, but that does not appear to be ‘in the cards,’ as they say."

"Headmaster…do you know where Harry is?" I asked directly. I was not going to be detoured. I wanted…I needed to know where he was—right now!

"Harry is somewhere on the school’s grounds but exactly where, I do not know." I couldn’t stop the angry frown that quickly crossed my face and left, but the headmaster still saw it apparently. "I am sorry that I cannot give you a more definitive answer, Miss Granger. But when Harry left my office right after the conflict at the Ministry, he was quite upset with me. He ended up destroying a great many of my trinkets and knick-knacks," the elder stated as he gestured to the broken items on his shelves and on the desk. I gasped as I finally took notice of the state of the headmaster’s office and its contents. Aside from the books, everything on the shelves was utterly destroyed.

"Harry did this?! He couldn’t have," I couldn’t help but say it. The destruction here was utterly complete. Some of it obviously wrecked physically yet most of the damages were in such far-reaching places that it had to have been accomplished by magic—whether intentional or accidental, I did not know. And while Harry’s temper this year had been infamously short, it still struck me as very out of character for him.

Dumbledore nodded, "He did." I struggled for a moment to close my jaw whereas the professor would not meet my eyes. "But the fault in this instance lies with me. I left Harry trapped in my office for nearly an hour whilst I was attempting to calm the chaos at the ministry. When I finally did return, I gave him unsettling and very personal news that I had procrastinated in telling him for many years. The news regarded him and his future and was such that it probably shook him to his very core. In shielding him from it, in combination with my abysmal timing, I have only multiplied his grief and anguish. In retrospect, I see that I could not have chosen a worse time.

"My only communication from him since has been via his owl. He said that he wished to be left alone for a while. In return, he promised to remain on the school grounds, stay away from the dangerous areas and not do anything rash. Given what I had done, I could not and would not deny his request. He did assure me that he would be here for the leaving feast Saturday night and ready to board the Express the next morning."

Ron finally spoke up, his dubious tone grated on me, "So what was this earth-shattering news? Surely it couldn’t have been that bad." My reaction was immediate. I cuffed him on the back of the head and shouted his name.

"I cannot share what was said, Mr. Weasley, for it is not my place to tell. I can assure however that it was indeed most dire." He returned his gaze to me. "I implore that you give him the time he needs. Be there for him if he asks but do not impose upon him. He will talk about it when he is ready. I am probably very far down on the list of people he would speak with at the moment."

"We will professor."

With that, our headmaster nodded in reply, and we left.

~*~*~*

Very late that night, I sat on sofa along the under the window in the Gryffindor Common Room, waiting for Harry to come back to the tower. I chose this particular location because it allowed me to see the portrait hole while still being comfortable. No wonder the seventh years tend to monopolize this location each year. It’s a great spot.

All the while, I had multiple chains of thought running through my head. I was thinking about my worries in my friendship with Harry. I pondered over what Professor Dumbledore had said. I even tried to take a stab or two at what new development could make Harry go off the deep end enough to destroy the headmaster’s office. I felt a little better about the status of Harry’s friendship since now I knew that he wasn’t actively avoiding me—although it depressed me a bit to know that he was shutting me out. The nature of our friendship allowed us to discuss almost any subject, and we’ve had a few heart-to-heart talks over the years. I also thought whatever Professor Dumbledore could have told Harry; it must have really been horrible.

My biggest worry though is for Harry’s mental health. He has been dealt two apparently crushing blows in one week, and now he was slated to return to the Dursleys. Harry barely survived his summers there under the best of circumstances. I’ve seen Harry survive the longest odds, but this is not the same. I can’t help but think that Harry’s trip back to the Muggle World will lead him to a torture chamber, both his own and his relatives’ making.

‘I have to do something, but what?

‘….The Library!’

I know it’s after curfew and the library closed, but I look down at my watch anyway. I’ve never used my status as a prefect for personal gain, but I will tonight. This is important. Hopefully Harry hasn’t packed yet; I’ll need his cloak.

~*~*~*

Sat., June 29th, 1996

After several hours of scouring the texts in the library, I once again find what I’m looking for in Moste Potente Potions.

Adfectus Copula Concoction

Created in 1802 by Gregor Blackmon, this potion allows the maker to fashion a talisman to monitor the state of mind or wellbeing of another. He made the potion in order to keep apprised of his pregnant young bride’s condition as she entered the final weeks of the gestational growth, as he kept his potions laboratory in a remote location and sealed off the structure from owls for worry of impurities in his experimental brews.

A golden galleon or any eight ounce gold slug, once dipped in the finished potion will allow whoever physically touches the gold piece with exposed skin to gain a limited feeling of the donor’s current emotional status and physical wellbeing. The best method of physical contact is to create a hole large enough in the slug for a small chain to loop through it, so that it may be worn as a piece of jewellery in direct contact with skin. Once submerged in the potion, however, the gold slug may not be transfigured or transmuted.

The link generally lasts two to four weeks depending on the donor’s magical potential. Dipping it in a freshly prepared brew can renew the talisman’s magic if it starts to fade. Later experimentation revealed that imbibing the finished potion before the gold piece has been removed enhances the link and can lengthen the link’s effective time.

Ingredients

½ Tbsp. Powdered Unicorn Horn

1 Shrivelfig, finely chopped

7 square inches of boomslang skin

3 average size Griffin feathers

1 tsp. Honey from a holly ladle

7 drops of blood from the subject, willingly given

8 ounce gold ingot (at least 99 percent pure)

While a few of the ingredients may be expensive, the potion itself is relatively easy to make. Using a standard #5 iron potions cauldron, fill with water and heat to steaming and start stirring on clockwise direction at 1 revolution per 3 seconds. Add unicorn horn and wait until surface becomes mother of pearl. Add all ingredients in order, except for donor’s blood and gold piece, while still stirring until each dissolves. Remove from heat, stop stirring and let cool until at ambient temperature. Potion can be stored safely in glass or crystal phial or sealed cauldron at this time with no further precautions until needed, however shelf life should not exceed 72 hours for potency reasons.

When ready to finish creating the talisman. Add 7 drops of fresh blood onto gold ingot and then drop gold piece into brew. Cauldron will bubble slightly until gold ingot has been imbued to its fullest. The potion is safe to touch when finished. Be sure to cleanse tools thoroughly as usual after completion of any blood-based potions.

While the talisman’s effect is immediate; the potion, if drank, will take a few hours to come into full effect.

~*~*~*

Sun., June 30th, 1996

After a long day of research, getting past Professor Snape’s wards to raid the school’s potion stores, and potion making, I was utterly exhausted when I went to bed early last evening.

Harry showed up at the leaving feast as he had promised the headmaster, if only at the very end. I looked up to the Heads’ Table and witnessed Professor Dumbledore lifting his glass briefly and give a nod to Harry. Harry nodded in acknowledgement but did nothing else.

Harry appeared normal for the most part. He was quiet and looked very calm though, probably too calm—almost like he was waiting. He spoke when spoken to but never initiated conversation. Among the boisterous mass at the feast, Harry merely ate quietly and never cracked anything more than a forced smile. This was very different Harry than I’m used to seeing, and that concerned me greatly. Any worries that I had about my activities that day involving impropriety and rule-breaking were squashed. Seeing his current state, I knew I had done the right thing. If left entirely to his own devices, his dour mood could turn into a deep depression if it was ignored in the long term. In the background, I hear Professor Dumbledore awarding the House Cup to Ravenclaw house to rousing from the table behind me. My attention returns forward as he begins his closing remarks.

"With the awarding of the awarding of the House Cup, another year has indeed passed. And for the second year in a row, it passes under a shroud of growing evils in the world outside these walls.

"For those that were here at the end of last year, I informed you all of the return of Lord Voldemort. I also warned that my telling you so would be met with scepticism, criticism, and in some cases, outright denial. That and more came to pass this year, and you have all been forced to endure because of it. For that, I am sorry. To the many who believe as I do and to those who were specifically targeted by the Ministry’s hand and suffered unbearably for it, you have my most sincere apologies and my undying gratitude."

I watch as Harry’s face shows only a slight twitch as the Headmaster makes his apologies.

"The Ministry has finally accepted the truth. The Dark Lord Voldemort has indeed returned. The Minister and several ministry employees witnessed a pitched battle between the forces of the Light and of the Dark in Ministry’s very halls. Lord Voldemort, himself, was seen duelling in the Atrium by no less than seven senior ministry officials. Their acceptance came a great cost, however, as one of the Light’s best fighters was struck down by Bellatrix Lestrange. I raise my glass to Sirius Black—an innocent man who suffered so greatly in this life and wish him well in his next adventure."

Harry sits with his jaw clenched tightly as he glares at the pitcher of pumpkin directly in front of him. As the headmaster raises his glass, I could only jump as the container he was staring at explodes in a shower of tinkling glass and juice. Harry’s head jerks up, his mouth agape, as he realizes what he’s just done and then lowers his head again; this time in resignation. I take his hand silently under the table to lend him support.

~*~*~*

Mon., July 1st, 1996

Although today may ‘officially’ be a new day, nothing has changed with Harry. Breakfast was a quiet affair, even though Professor Dumbledore’s absence was a bit out of the ordinary. With everything that’s bound to be going on at the Ministry regarding recent events, his presence must have been needed there. Perfectly understandable really.

Harry, Ron, Neville and I are in one of the school’s carriages on the way down to Hogsmeade Station to board the Express. While the cabin bounces and sways lightly as we go, Neville and Ron are discussing their summer plans as I watch Harry blankly staring out the glass. The closer we get to the station, the more nervous I become about what I am going to do. I know that someone needs to keep an eye on Harry’s mental wellbeing, and it’s obvious that his relatives aren’t standing in line to accept the task. Professor Dumbledore doesn’t seem that concerned about him or is too busy to deal with it properly. That leaves only his friends—and since Ron has the emotional capacity of thimble—that ultimately leaves it to me.

Normally, I would have no problem with this given our proximity to each other during the school year, but summer hols are another thing entirely. Thus, I was forced into researching alternative methods of monitoring him. Now that I’ve found a method and prepared it, I’m unsure how he’ll take it: emotionally and physically. I won’t lie to him about it. I only hope that he doesn’t ask too many questions. With having Snape root around in his head this year, he may.

I’m also unsettled somewhat by what the potion will actually do. And while I had to bend a few rules to get some of the items, making it wasn’t that difficult. The lack of documentation regarding the results and effects bothers me though. Too many unanswered questions linger; however, I could find no other suitable solution.

I get pulled from my thoughts with a tap at my shoulder, only to notice that the coaches have stopped, and Neville’s already debarked. Ron’s giving me a questioning look, but I glance at Harry first before answering. "Ron, perhaps you should sit elsewhere for this trip. I’ll keep Harry company and try to talk to him. Maybe cheer him up a bit, you know? But I need to have a more serious talk with him as well. Ron and I both look back to Harry whose head had popped up briefly as I mentioned the word ‘serious.’ The brief glimmer of hope that was there rapidly dies, and my chest tightens a little seeing it.

"Alright then, I’ll sit with Dean and Seamus. I’ll look in on you two later though."

"Thanks, Ron." I turn back to Harry and tap him on the shoulder, "Time to get on the train, Harry."

Harry only glances up at me and follows me out the door and on to the platform. I have to hold Harry by the arm, as his mind is completely disregarding the current task. I wave back at Hagrid as he waves to the both of us, but Harry doesn’t even see him. The half-giant sighs but says nothing as Harry and I step into the last car.

Our usual compartment in the back of the train is unoccupied, so I lead Harry in and we sit down since the house elves, Merlin bless their hearts, have already put Harry’s, Neville’s, Ron’s, Ginny’s and my things in the overhead racks. Harry leans his head against the window glass as I take the seat direct across from him.

This is first chance that I’ve really had to closely observe Harry in a while. Granted, I seen him a few times since I’ve left the hospital, but there was always something to do or some sort of distraction that wouldn’t allow that sort of thing. While everything about him says he’s depressed, the first thing that comes to mind is that he looks absolutely exhausted; his eyelids are half-closed and his eyes look a fright. They whites of his look yellow and red, and the large, saggy circles under his eyes show me how little sleep he’s truly getting.

I take it upon myself to decide that Harry needs rest first and foremost, but I can’t risk waiting until after he wakes up later to make the talisman. I sigh in resignation as I figure that we need to get that out of the way first.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" he looks up to give me a questioning glance.

"I don’t want to bother you about…everything that’s happened recently, but you’ve got me really worried. Plus with us going home, I’m especially concerned about you since I won’t be able to see you everyday like I do at school." Harry merely nodded. "I wanted to ask if you’d allow me to do something to help put my mind at ease."

This seems to have him curious. He tilts his to the side a bit, "Depends, I guess. What did you have in mind?"

I take some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t reject me immediately, "Well, I’ve found a potion recipe that will let me enchant a talisman using seven drops of your blood that will let have a general sense of how you’re doing. You have to understand, I wouldn’t worry so much normally, but this hasn’t exactly been a normal year either."

Harry drops his head briefly as I hear him mumbling, "Isn’t that the truth" under his breath. He lets out a laboured breath and nods. I’m not sure whether I should be pleased or disappointed over his lack of questioning me about it. While I certainly don’t want to disclose much more about the potion and what it does, the fact that he trusts me implicitly does bolster my confidence.

I climb upon my seat to retrieve my trunk from the overhead compartment only to find Harry standing right beside me, ready to lend a hand. I place trunk on the floor and remove the pre-filled cauldron, a wide-mouth, glass goblet and the galleon-turned-necklace from my potions kit. I take a white, linen sheet and lay it over the top of the trunk and put the goblet and the heavy slug on the closed lid. I pour the liquid into the goblet and place the empty iron pot aside. A quick tug of the window shades, a colloportus and sticking charm on the door ensure that we won’t be disturbed, and I declare everything ready.

"Okay, now what?"

"I’ll just need one of your hands, your wand, and a light cutting curse." Harry nods and extends his right hand to me. I take his hand softly in my left. The feel of light hair on the back of his hand running across my palm makes me shiver slightly. I am puzzled slightly at my own reaction and turn his hand over only to see said hair as well as the scars left behind by that wench, Umbridge and her blood quill. My perplexed look turns into a pure frown.

"Is everything alright, Hermione?"

I see a look of true concern on his face. This is the most emotion he’s shown in a week, and it comforts me to some degree to know that my Harry…the Harry I know, is in there somewhere. "Just pondering another bad memory from this year," I answer. He nods understandingly, and his face shows resoluteness and defiance.

I flip his hand back over and use my fingers to find a suitably soft area on his hand that won’t cause a more serious injury if I cut it, and Harry’s fingers curl just a twitch. ‘Okay, here we go. I just hope this idea doesn’t come back to bite me in the arse.’

I hold out my hand to ask for his wand, and he passes it to me instantly. I incant the necessary curse as I run his wand across the pad of his palm, and I lower his hand over the galleon. He keeps the hand steady as we both mentally count the drops of blood as they fall onto the coin. I feel a slight bit of guilt as I twist his wand a bit and heal the cut I made. The blood may have been necessary, but it nearly brings me to tears that I had to cause him more pain—even if he hasn’t even shown any discomfort.

I carefully lift the galleon and tilt it so that blood fully covers the top surface. Without further preamble, I drop them into the cup. The instructions with the potion said that it would bubble slightly, but as with anything involving Harry, I should know better. It nearly boils for 3 minutes before settling down. I hesitantly touch the base of the glass and find only comforting warmth there. I lift the shimmering potion to just under my nose. The instructions gave no indication at all as to the taste or texture of it, so I’m dealing with something totally unknown here. Knowing some of the potions we’ve had to drink in the past, I’m expecting something beyond retched to reach my nose. But to my surprise, it smells like warm apple cider with a strong hint of cinnamon and pumpkin spices.

My fears being appeased slightly, I bring the goblet to my lips and begin swallowing. The potion has a strong, magical kick to it, and I am almost dizzy as I finish the drink. I somehow manage to remember that the gold piece is in the bottom and refrain from swallowing it by accident. As I reach into the vessel and pick up the talisman, I feel a rush of joyous song sweep through me from the inside out; a wave of intense, physical pleasure causes me to shudder momentarily.

‘Thank Merlin for robes! I just hope that Harry doesn’t notice how red I am right now.’

I keep my head down as I thread the chain through the eyelet, as this stalls a bit for time. It somehow feels right to hand it to Harry and ask him to put it on. I hold the ends of the chain out to him, and he picks up on my thought immediately. I turn around and pull up the back of my horrid hair. The blush returns to my face as I can nearly feel the warmth radiating from both of my friend’s hands and the new piece of jewellery as he drapes his arms over my shoulders to grab the other end of the chain. I can feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as I can only wonder what is going on with me. Feeling the links of the chain slide around my neck, my arms go flush and tighten like gooseflesh. When I finally hear the light click of the clasp and feel the last bit of the chain settle just below my neck bones as Harry lets go the chain.

Something just feels off about the whole thing until I realize that I am supposed to keep the pendant next to my skin. I grab onto it briefly and drop behind the front of my shirt. The feeling I get from the medallion as it settles itself between my breasts causes my face to blush again. And while the swirl of magic that I felt previously now feels content and settled, I’m much less sure about me.

Harry places a hand on my shoulder that rouses me from ruminations. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

"Yeah, just give me a second. That was a very strong potion."

Harry sits back down at the request. It grants a few minutes for my breathing rate to come down and to be sure that my normal colouring had returned. As I look back up to Harry, I see a look of worry on his face, "Honestly Harry, I’m fine. That potion packed quite a punch is all. The closest thing that I could equate it to would be an adrenaline rush."

Harry relaxes a bit at that. Strangely enough, the amulet gives me an impression of feeling satisfaction. Then it dawns on me. ‘It works!’ I smile a bit while Harry notices and looks on curiously. I shake my head, and he nods once then looks out the window.

I take a moment or so to stow the potions equipment in my trunk as I gather my thoughts. My primary goal has been accomplished, but I still want to talk to Harry. I stand to move to the seat next to him.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"Harry, look at me please?" I didn’t mean for it to be a question, but it certainly sounded like one. It gets the job done though. Oddly enough his gaze moves straight to my new position. Obviously he’s more aware of his surroundings than I give him credit for.

"Ron and I spoke to Professor Dumbledore when you hid yourself away for a while after we got back from the Ministry." I feel the galleon under get very warm, and Harry’s jaw tenses up as he starts to turn away from me. But I refuse to let him. I put my hand on his opposite cheek and draw his face back in my direction. "Harry, I, well, Ron and I were very worried about you. You lost someone close to you, and I knew that the headmaster was the last person with which you spoke. I was wanted to see if he could shed some light on the situation. The only thing that he told us that on top of everything else, he left you with some sort of dire news right after you got back from the Ministry." Harry’s jaw finally relaxes a little. "He asked us not to push the issue with you, and I won’t. You’ll talk about it when you’re ready—just like you do with everything else. I just…" I bring my hand back up to his face now to emphasize my point. "I just wanted you to know that you’re my best friend on this Earth, and that I love and care about you. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. Alright?" What happens next completely throws me for a loop.

Harry’s eyes start to water and his face contorts in a way that I’ve never seen from him while the amulet feels like a cold and hot arthritis cream. An instant later, he turns his body to me then stops for a tic as if to think about something then launches himself to embrace me. I never thought I’d receive a hug that compares to Molly Weasley, but Harry’s holding me so tight that this puts hers to shame.

‘What in Merlin’s name did I say?’ I’m stuck stock-still and can’t seem to move my arms. I don’t hear anything from him, but when I feel the moisture on my neck and his shoulders start to shake, I finally figure it out. ‘He’s crying.’ This revelation pulls me from my stupor.

This is uncharted territory to me. My mind has ground itself to a halt thinking of the number of things that I could do for Harry at the moment. But fortunately, instinct seems to take over. I wrap my arms around him as I fight and lose the battle with my own tears. I stroke his back and whisper reassuring words even though I’m not entirely sure why he needs them in the first place.

‘Thank Circe for the privacy measures I put in place earlier. There’s no way that Harry would want this to be public knowledge.’

After Harry has gathered himself somewhat, I pull back a bit, and he does the same. We both take a moment to clear our faces. His eyes are still a tad puffy and red but otherwise clear. ‘If that’s the way he looks, I must be a fright!’

Very timidly he apologizes and lowers his head, "Sorry about that, Hermione. I’m not sure what came over me."

"It’s quite alright, Harry. You’ve had a rough week. That’s what friends do for each other. I daresay you probably feel a bit better now, right?" He pauses then nods. "I didn’t mean to upset you, Harry. What did I say that hurt you like that?"

Harry’s head pops up suddenly, and I start. I see and feel that he’s worried. "No, no, no! You didn’t hurt my feelings or anything!"

"What upset you so, then?"

He looks away again. "Nothing."

I plead with him, "Harry, come on. Please tell me."

He sighs and states quietly, "No one’s ever said that to me before."

"Said what? That they’re there for you?"

"No. Well, yeah. That, too. But no one has ever told me that they loved me—at least not that I can remember anyway."

"I… I…" My mind replays through the conversation. "I just…" I bring my hand back up to his face now to emphasize my point. "I just wanted you to know that you’re my best friend on this Earth, and that I love and care about you. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. Alright?"

Now it’s my turn to sigh, "I guess I did say that, didn’t I?" He nods in agreement. "And it’s definitely true enough." He shrugs.

"But why would that…?" And Harry’s final words ring through my head and send my mind racing again.

"But I’m certain that I…" ‘Think Hermione, think! You’ve surely said that to him at one point or another! Damn!’

"But surely the Wea…" ‘One of the Weasleys had to have said it at some point. Well, probably not Ron, but Arthur? Molly?’

"But what about at ho…." ‘No, from what little I’ve seen from or heard about the Dursleys—they wouldn’t. He’s probably right. I know he is. Harry doesn’t play with peoples’ emotions like that.’

After I mentally conclude that he is telling the truth, all the memories I have stored away regarding anything and anyone parental replay through my mind. I saw them as ordinary previously, until I view them from Harry’s perspective, and my emotions teeter on the edge as I recall them.

The forced smiles as he sees me run to my parents as they greet me year after year at the station. The way he looks away when I jump into my parents’ arms when I reach them. The look of yearning he gives when the assembly of Weasleys walk away from the station towards home. The uncomfortable grimace that shows itself from Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder as she hugs Harry, knowing that it’s a poor substitute for the real thing.

I can’t keep my emotions any longer my parts in it finally come to the fore. The look of heartbreak when he’s realized I’ve tattled to Professor McGonagall about his new Firebolt. The cold shoulders I gave him several periods after Divination when I noticed he fell asleep and wasn’t paying attention. And finally the constant nagging I levied on him about doing schoolwork and abiding the rules.

"I’m a horrible, horrible friend," I say to no one. I don’t even feel the tears as they fall. I wrap my arms around my body, but they are of little comfort. I eventually fall without a fight into Harry’s embrace as he tries to return the comfort I gave him.

"You’re not a horrible friend, Hermione. You’re a great friend. You watch out for me and probably saved my arse more times than I care to count."

I jump back some. "But what about McGonagall and your Firebolt?"

"You were trying to keep me safe."

I put a finger in his chest. "And my constant nagging?" ‘He’s not letting me off the hook that easily.’

"About what? Homework?" I nod confidently. "You made sure I got my work done so that I was ready for class. You wanted me to be the best wizard I can be."

"But what about those times after Divination… and… and… History of Magic?" ‘You’re reaching now, girl.’

"Well, you made me start learning to take my own notes since you wouldn’t let me borrow yours. But between me and you, there’s no help to be had for those two professors." Harry pulls me close again as I run out of steam.

"Between you and me, you mean," is my last and quietest rebuttal. ‘He’s won, but I can’t let him think that.’

"Whatever. No matter what you say, you’re still a wonderful friend—my very best friend as a matter of fact."

I lean away enough to look into his eyes. "Really?" As soon as I say it I want to slap myself for sounding so sappy, helpless and – as much as I loathe to say it – girly.

"Yes, really." His eyes show the truth in his words as well as the comforting and confirming warmth of the amulet.

Harry slowly releases me and reclines back into his seat; looking to be in deep thought.

"Harry?"

His eyes turn to meet mine. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for making me feel better."

I feel his hand come to rest on mine and give it a little squeeze. "No. Thank you, Hermione. You’ve done more for me than I could possibly repay. I won’t ever forget it."

"Just let me know when you’re ready to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you, okay?"

"I will. Not now, but soon."

-~-~-~-~-

Ron eventually stops by later as promised although he has to knock to gain entry. A quick series of incantations and flourishes of my wand and the door releases and slides open a little. Ron opens it cautiously and peers around the corner. He smiles a bit and then opens the door fully when I give him a nod. Ron sits across from the two of us, but Harry makes no move to acknowledge him. Ron looks from Harry to me and then to Harry’s hand joined with mine. Upon seeing the last, Ron scowls for a moment before schooling his features. I still catch it though. In my mind, I refuse to be cowed by him, but my face lightly blushes against my will.

I put a little pressure on Harry’s hand to get his attention and then let it go as Ron pipes up cheerfully, "Hi, Harry."

"Hey, Ron." At least Harry is trying.

"Feeling any better now?" Ron asks.

He glances at me for a second while giving my hand a light squeeze and release, "Yeah, a bit. Good enough for a game of chess at any rate."

Those appeared to be the magic words Ron was looking for as he pulls the set from his trunk above and starts setting up the board for another one of their barbaric games. I roll my eyes and pull a copy of the Daily Prophet from my bag. I won’t deny myself the tiny smile that wants to appear on my face as I hide behind the pages.

Some sequences paraphrased from JKR’s HP and the OotP, US ed.

The remainder of the journey home was eventful in several ways. Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without adult witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the loo. The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of D.A. members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid. By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniforms as Ernie and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.

Harry quietly thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compartment, where he bought a large pile of Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties. I was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The Quibbler, and Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.

Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while I read out snippets from the Prophet. It was now full of articles about how to repel dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters, and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning...

"It hasn't really started yet," I sighed gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. "But it won't be long now..."

"Hey, Harry," said Ron, nodding toward the glass window onto the corridor.

Harry looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava. His and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho blushed and kept walking. Harry looked back down at the chessboard just in time to see one of his pawns chased off its square by Ron's knight.

"What's -- er -- going on with you and her anyway?" Ron asked quietly.

"Nothing," said Harry without much emotion.

"I -- er -- heard she's going out with someone else now," I said tentatively. I really had no idea how he would react to the news.

Harry look to be in thought for a moment, but that appeared to be all. I felt a bit of wistfulness from the amulet.

"You're well out of it, mate," said Ron forcefully. "I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful."

"She's probably cheerful enough with someone else," said Harry, shrugging. The lack of feeling from my necklace surprised me though. I thought that earlier feelings from him were associated with Cho.

"Who's she with now anyway?" Ron asked me, but it was Ginny who answered.

"Michael Corner," she said.

"Michael – but – " said Ron, craning around in his seat to stare at her. "But you were going out with him!"

"Not anymore," said Ginny resolutely. "He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead." She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, turned The Quibbler upside down and began marking her answers. Ron looked highly delighted.

"Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot," he said, prodding his queen forward toward Harry's quivering castle. "Good for you. Just choose someone -- better -- next time."

He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it. I can only shake my head and sigh. I’m not sure which is worse, ‘Obvious Ron’ or ‘Oblivious Harry.’

"Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?" asked Ginny vaguely.

"WHAT?" shouted Ron, upending the chessboard. Crookshanks went plunging after the pieces and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon twittered and hooted angrily from overhead.

As the train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross, I could tell that Harry was saddened by the prospect of starting another summer with his relatives. When it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwig's cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual.

When the ticket inspector signalled to him, Ron, and I that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, I found a surprise awaiting Harry on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him whom he had obviously not expected at all.

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend THE WEIRD SISTERS. Next to Tonks was Professor Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.

"Ron, Ginny!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forward and hugging her children tightly. "Oh, and Harry dear -- how are you?"

"Fine," lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. And there it was. Now that I had seen it once in my memories, I would always recognize the look of grief and sorrow that Harry hid when he received affection from one of the Weasleys. Those same feelings radiated through the amulet. It all stopped though when Ron drew the attention to himself.

"What are they supposed to be?" he asked, pointing at the jackets.

"Finest dragon skin, little bro," said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. "Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves."

"Hello, Harry," said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry. She then turned to greet me while Professor Lupin stepped forward to speak to Harry.

"Hi," said Harry. "I didn't expect...what are you all doing here?"

"Well," said the former professor with a slight smile, "we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home."

"I dunno if that's a good idea," said Harry at once.

"Oh, I think it is," growled Moody, who had limped a little closer to him. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?"

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat. Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was pointing and there, sure enough, were the three people who looked positively appalled to see Harry and his reception committee.

"Ah, Harry!" said Mr. Weasley, turning from my parents, whom he had been greeting enthusiastically, and who were taking it in turns to hug me. "Well -- shall we do it, then?"

"Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur," said Moody.

He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station toward the place where the Dursleys stood, apparently rooted to the floor. I watched the scene and noticed that Harry wasn’t moving with the group that was heading for his relatives. The look on his face was a myriad of emotions and none of them good. I excused myself to lend Harry my support as I led him to the odd assembly.

"Good afternoon," said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Harry’s uncle, coming to a halt right in front of him. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley."

Obviously they had met before, and obviously it had not been a pleasant meeting as Harry’s uncle turned a deep shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley. Harry’s aunt looked both frightened and embarrassed as kept glancing around. While Harry’s cousin Dudley seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant. Let’s just say there was little chance of that.

"We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry," said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.

"Yeah," growled Moody. "About how he's treated when he's at your place."

The man's moustache seemed to bristle with indignation. "I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my home – "

"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley," growled Moody.

"Anyway, that's not the point," interjected Tonks. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry -- "

" -- and make no mistake, we'll hear about it," added Lupin pleasantly.

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley, "even if you won't let Harry use the fellytone -- "

"Telephone," I whispered. 'Damn my penchant for correcting people.'

"Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," said Moody.

The portly man swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs. I felt an odd bit of trepidation at this.

"Are you threatening me, sir?" he said, so loudly that passersby actually turned to stare.

I glanced at Harry and found the source. 'Why is he worried? They're trying to make his summer easier.'

"Yes, I am," said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather pleased that Uncle Vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.

"And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?" barked Uncle Vernon.

I sensed Harry's anxiety increase a notch at this. 'But wh…Oh Circe, this may backfire, and it'll be Harry left to deal with it.'

"Well..." said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backward in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley."

Moody turned away from Harry's uncle to survey Harry. "So, Potter...give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along..."

"Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.

"Take care, Harry," said Lupin quietly. "Keep in touch."

"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.

"We'll see you soon, mate. We promise," said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.

Harry nodded and then looked to me. I somehow could not find words to say to him to tell him what he meant to me. I finally settled on hugging him. Harry slowly responded at first but then pulled me in tight. "Take care of yourself Harry, okay?" I whispered. I felt him nod into my hair. "And I don't care if Professor Dumbledore says not to write again this year. I'll mail you through the muggle post if I have to." I slipped him a slip of parchment with my address on it just in case as I sniffled a bit.

"Okay," he said as he gave me a watery smile. He then raised a hand meekly in farewell to the rest, turned around, and followed in his relatives' wake out of the station.

End of Chapter 1

-~-~-~-~-