Harry Potter and the Unsettling Discovery

Harry Potter and the Unsettling Discovery

Ch. 2

The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.--Elie Wiesel

Harry finally burst through the portrait hole out of breath. Hermione thought he looked wild eyed and panicky. He ran up to his dormitory and slammed the door behind him. Hermione and Ron looked at each other with puzzled expressions for about a minute until Ron thought to speak.

"What was THAT about?"

"I don't know, but he obviously doesn't want to talk about it, or he'd have come over here."

They sat in silence for twenty minutes. Hermione was checking Ron's essay for McGonagall on the ethics of using Transfiguration spells on Muggles, while Ron just sat there and thought about Harry. He wanted to go up and check he was okay, but he knew Hermione was right. Whatever was bothering Harry, he would tell them when he was ready. But Ron was willing to bet all the gold in Gringotts that this was entirely Malfoy's fault.

When Hermione had finished checking the essay and Ron had written his final draft, they gave each other a short kiss goodnight and made their way up to their dormitories. When Ron entered the room he shared with the other Gryffindor seventh year boys he shot a quick glance toward Harry's bed, but wasn't surprised to see the curtains drawn. Wishing he could somehow help his friend, he undressed quickly and went to bed.

-- -- -- -- --

For the next week Harry moped about, not talking to anyone unless they spoke to him first, and even then answering only in curt monosyllables. It was obvious to his friends that he was very troubled by something, but Hermione still thought it best to let him come to them with his problems first. However after a week watching his friend's constant downward spiral into depression, Ron had had enough.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and all of the Gryffindors had tried to talk Harry into going to the village, but he had simply answered "I need to...Library," and trailed out of the portrait hole disconsolately. Hermione and Ron had decided to stay behind, in case Harry should need them, and were surprised to see him return to the common room only five minutes after the rest of the students had departed for Hogsmead. Without even looking up from the floor, he made his way to the staircases and up to his dormitory.

"That's it! I've had enough of this!" Ron bellowed, slamming his Chudley Cannons book down on the table with such force that a couple of second years nearby yelped. He stood abruptly and stormed over to the stairs.

"Ron, wait, I don't think you should..." was all Hermione got out before Ron had disappeared up the stairs, stomping on every stair as he climbed. Hermione let out a sigh and quickly followed Ron up the stairs hoping she wasn't too far behind to head off any trouble Ron might start. As she made her way up to the boy's seventh year dorm, she heard Ron yelling at Harry.

"...sulking around here like a child, we're your FRIENDS!"

"Oh no," she said under her breath as she picked up her pace. She burst in the room to see Ron struggling with Harry's bed curtains. The raven haired boy had obviously put some sort of sticking charm on them so they wouldn't open. She crossed the room quickly and laid a hand on Ron's upper arm. Succeeding to calm him down a little, she pulled him over to his own bed and sat him down. Keeping a calming hand on his shoulder, she turned toward Harry's bed and muttered quietly "Finite Incantatem."

Ron's snort from behind her let her know that he was again thinking logically, and finally realising how preposterous the situation of a few seconds ago had been. "Sure, take the easy way out, I could have done that any time," he whispered with a chuckle. Rolling her eyes, Hermione let go of him and stepped forward to open Harry's hangings.

She hadn't seen him up this close for a week, and the sight of him shocked her. He looked thinner and paler than usual. His eyes were so red it looked like he had been crying non stop since she last saw him. He was lying on his side curled into the foetal position, with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and staring straight ahead glassily. The sight of him tore at her heart so badly, that she thought she would start crying.

From behind her she felt Ron stand up and move to her side. "Bloody hell, mate. What's wrong?" The pain and worry were evident in his voice. Harry remained motionless on the bed, and he could have been mistaken for a statue, if not for a silent tear that was running down his cheek.

This unnerved his friends more than anything. Harry was not someone who could be described as unemotional. When Harry was livid, everyone in a ten kilometre radius was likely to know. But Harry wasn't often prone to displays of sadness. Ron and Hermione had never seen Harry looking so wretched, so raw with emotion. It was a heartbreaking sight, and they wanted to help. Ron reached out to put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry recoiled as if Ron had been brandishing a red hot poker, in turn causing Ron to jump back in surprise.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, reaching out to try to touch Harry herself. He pulled back a little, though less dramatically than he had with Ron. And Hermione only hesitated for a second before continuing forward until she was touching Harry. At Hermione's gentle touch on his arm something in Harry seemed to break. Almost unobservable, his chest began to tremor, and slowly his shuddering built until he was sobbing intensely, yet silently.

Hermione's maternal instincts took over and she pulled Harry into a tight hug. His body was rigid and tense. Wondering what had upset Harry so, she looked up as Ron moved in closer to hug Harry too. As they sat with him, patting him consolingly on the back, until they could feel him slowly relax.

"What is it, what's bothering you?" Ron asked as they pat Harry on the back. Harry didn't say anything for a while. Finally when he was calm enough for speech, he sat back and looked at his friends as if he had never seen the likes of them before.

"You guys are my friends," he finally said.

It wasn't a statement. But it wasn't a question either. Not sure how it was meant, Ron just kidded, "Of course we are you dolt."

"But what makes someone a friend?" Harry continued. "I mean a Hufflepuff might say a friend is someone who is loyal to you," he said looking at Ron, and then turning to Hermione. "A Ravenclaw might say a friend is someone who helps you grow as a person." Looking out the window he added quietly, "A Slytherin might say a friend is someone who helps you get ahead in life. But which one is right? What IS a friend?"

"Well," Hermione injected, "they're all right." Harry and Ron looked at her in surprise while she continued, "People pick their friends based on what they find important or admirable in other people."

"So that's all friendship is, choosing who you will spend time with based on how they can help you?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Partly, yes," Hermione admitted. "But that's not all friendship is. You may expect these things from them, but you're willing and glad to give them in return. A friend is someone you'll do anything for. You'll even sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for theirs. And each friendship is different, just like each friend is different."

After thinking about this for a while Harry said, "I don't have many friends." At Ron's doubtful snort he explained, "A lot of people might consider me their friend, and they certainly expect me to put my own life aside for theirs, but would any of them do the same for me?"

"I WOULD!" Ron said forcefully.

"We both would," Hermione added.

Harry looked at them for a few seconds and then nodded. "I know you would, and I would do the same for you," he said, not bothering to add the "and probably will," that was lingering at the tip of his tongue. "But I doubt the rest of the wizarding world would oblige. They just want me to be their perfect savoir. None of them really care about who I am." Neither of them knew how to answer Harry. It was true that everyone expected him to save them form Voldemort, but did any of them care about Harry's life?

The three of them sat in silence for a while. The hush was finally broken by Harry who said, "I don't think anyone really knows me," so softly it was almost quieter than the silence of a few seconds before. If there had been a fly buzzing in the room, Ron and Hermione would have missed his avowal.

"Well, you're a private person. We've known you for over six years, and I think today is the first time we've seen you cry," Hermione said.

"Everyone smarms up to me, but how would they take it if they found out anything about the real me, that their perfect idol might not be so perfect?" Harry continued as if he hadn't heard her.

"You mean, like the fact that when you first get up in the morning, your breath smells like you've been licking stinksap off of George's feet after a six hour game of Quidditch?" Ron asked convivially. That had finally done it. The increasingly sour atmosphere vanished in the blink of an eye, and all three friends were smiling.

Harry playfully punched Ron on the arm. "No, I mean the fact that a hero like me would even condescend to be friends with a git like you," he answered, preening himself in a flamboyantly theatrical way. Ron wrapped his arm tightly around Harry's neck and pulled him inward, rubbing his knuckles on Harry's scalp, and doing a good job of ruffling Harry's eternally dishevelled hair even more than usual.

The situation rapidly turned into a wrestling match, and Hermione quickly stood up to get away from the fray. She watched for a few minutes before turning and walking out of the room with a shake of the head, a roll of the eyes, and a smile. If anyone else had been there they would have barely heard her begrudgingly amused outcry of "Boys!" before she shut the door behind her.

End Chapter Two.