The Days After Sunday

Chapter 4

Fire and Lightning

"I'm doubtful about the temper of your flamingo"

-Alice in Wonderland

Harry walked out of the Weasley's front door and was promptly struck by lightening.

Well, not exactly struck, perhaps it's more accurate to say that he was grazed, the lightening actually striking a tall birch just a few feet away. The lightening was accompanied by a deafening burst of thunder, and had it not been for his rubber-soled trainers, Harry would have suffered considerably more than a temporary loss of hearing.

The odd thing was, it hadn't even been raining when Harry stepped outside, struggling to balance his trunk, Hedwig's cage, and various other items for his sixth year at Hogwarts. But in a matter of seconds the weather had changed from a mild September day, to a violent storm. Sheets of rain were now drenching Harry, who vaguely wondered when the ringing in his ears would stop.

As Harry stood stunned, in front of the damaged tree, Mr. Weasley hurried outside. But then he saw Harry next to his favorite birch, which had been split in two, and was blazing merrily, despite the rain.

"Harry! What in the name of Merlin just happened?"

Harry noticed Mr. Weasley gaping at him from the doorway, mouth moving without a sound, and looking quite a lot like a fish under water. A very distressed fish that is.

"WHAT?" yelled Harry.

"What happened to the tree?" asked Ron, walking out of the door past his dad.

"WHAT?"

"I looks like it's been struck by lightning," said Hermione. "Harry, are you alright?"

"WHAT?"

Mr. Weasley gave up, motioned for Harry to come inside, and then hurried off to make an urgent call.

Just a few moments later, Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived looking quite a bit perturbed. He marched straight over to the group huddled just inside the door. He stopped directly in front of Mr. Weasley, thrusting the now familiar contraption of a Dark Detector forward.

"Just take the ruddy thing."

Mr. Weasley complied, grabbing the instrument tentatively, as though it might explode.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a nine o'clock appointment to get my earring polished," said Kingsley, fingering his golden hoop. And with that, he promptly Disapparated.

Harry waited patiently as Mr. Weasley inspected the still smoldering tree. He was beginning to think that maybe Ron had a point about this unusual number of near death experiences.

~~~

About an hour earlier, a groggy Harry had opened his eyes to find that Ron was already awake, staring at the ceiling blankly.

"Morning Ron, " said Harry sleepily.

Ron started in surprise, but was prevented from bolting up by the multiple belts still strapping him to the bed.

"Harry!I-didn't-know-you-were-awake-yet-I've-been-up-for-hours-well-not-up-exactly-you-know-these-damned-straps-think-you-could-untie-me-by-the-way?" said Ron hastily, stringing his words together nervously.

"Just woke up, " Harry yawned. "Is everything all right? You seem a bit... edgy."

Harry moved to free Ron from his leather bonds, as he continued rambling distractedly.

"I'm fine. Perfectly fine. But you...No, I was just thinking, about yesterday and all, it just seems a bit odd don't you think?"

"What seems a bit odd?" asked Harry in confusion, as he untied the last strap.

Once freed, Ron sat up jerkily, rubbing his wrists and purposefully avoiding Harry's eyes.

"All those... accidents yesterday, I mean. There were more than usual, even for you."

"I suppose," agreed Harry reluctantly, beginning to wish he'd slept on a bit longer.

"Well, I wouldn't have said anything except that Hermione pointed it out...then, last night I started to wonder...And I was thinking about the party, your birthday party..."

"Ron!" interrupted Harry in annoyance. Life was just too short for all this babbling. "Whatever you're thinking, just say it already."

Ron looked a bit hurt by Harry's tone, but it did get him to look up. He sighed deeply.

"You didn't wish you were dead, did you?"

"So that's what he's worried about," Harry thought. "Is it really that obvious?"

Harry had actually spent a lot of time thinking about this over the past summer, after 'the night at the Ministry,' as he'd taken to calling it. His reflections had even inspired a poem composed entirely of one-syllable words (he thought this made it artistic) entitled "Death of a Wish". But every time Harry felt he would rather die than live with this grief, the words of the prophecy would spring into his head again, jeering childishly.

EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES

Those words chided him even now as he replied in a deflated tone, staring intently at the floor.

"I couldn't die even if I wanted to."

For the first time Ron realized just how depressed Harry was.

"I mean, I have to stay alive, or else Voldemort wins. That's what the prophecy says."

When Harry raised his eyes to look at Ron, it was almost as if he was challenging him, or maybe that was pleading. Pleading his best friend to say otherwise, to say he'd gotten it all wrong.

But Ron wasn't going to lie to Harry, and being less than talented at motivational speaking, he had absolutely no idea what to say. He was saved from a very uncomfortable silence by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Ron said with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Hermione peeked her head round the door.

"Oh good, you're both up. Mr. Weasley wants us to get an early start. We're getting our books at Diagon Alley before taking the train to school. Oh, and Harry, I'm sure you're wondering about your luggage and all that, but don't worry. Mrs. Weasley went to the Dursley's yesterday to collect all your things."

Then she left to let the boys get ready, while Harry wondered how Mrs. Weasley had accomplished something like that.

He didn't have a chance to ask her though, since by the time he and Ron came downstairs, Mrs. Weasley had already left.

"Molly's gone to bring Ginny a few things, " explained Mr. Weasley during breakfast. "She went to stay with a friend last night and forgot some clothes and whatnot. Thinks she couldn't possibly live without them, I suppose."

And even without Mrs. Weasley worrying over him, Harry managed to eat breakfast without choking to death on the cinnamon dusted porridge. He was beginning to think this looked like a less life threatening day; that is until he walked out the door and was promptly grazed by lightening.

~~

After the Dark Detector indicated that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the lightening struck tree, or anything at all in the immediate vicinity, Mr. Weasley drove Ron, Harry, and Hermione to Diagon Alley. Ginny's arrangements to go to Kings Cross with a friend meant she would not be accompanying them. It was a subtle, but affective way of averting a life-threatening situation, other wise known as being within a ten-foot radius of Harry Potter.

For those who were not as skillful as Ginny, it was a very tense drive. Mr. Weasley drove the entire way at just over fifteen miles an hour, jumping every time he heard a crack of thunder, while Hermione worried, though not about herself, and Ron rocked back and forth in his seat, saying every five minutes without fail, "I'm fine. Are you fine? I'm sure we'll be fine. Just dandy."

As for Harry, he spent the entire drive staring out the window at the grayness of countryside and then rain-slicked London streets, still completely deaf to what was going on around him.

And so, it was with much relief that they finally arrived at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, car and passengers coughHarrycough unscathed.

"I wish I didn't have to leave you," said Mr. Weasley nervously, "but the Ministry needs this car back by nine thirty. Surely you'll be fine together for less than an hour... Just be careful. And when you're done shopping, go find Fred or George. They'll go with you to Kings Cross."

Even though Hermione assured him that they would be able to manage, Mr. Weasley insisted on waiting until they'd gone through the brick wall and safely into the alley before he could be persuaded to leave.

~~

After gathering all the necessary school supplies, Harry, Hermione, and Ron made their way toward a brightly colored storefront, emitting loud pops and bangs, but most prominently, laughter. Of course, the noisiest place on the Alley would be Fred and George's newly acquired store, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes at number ninety-three.

The interior of the store was dangerous territory. It was packed with young wizards and witches, scrambling through the shop at about fifty miles an hour, much to the dismay of their parents

"Ferguson! Put that wand down right now!" cried one frazzled looking witch, while her two year old son stood jumping on a table, swinging two fake wands around his head and jabbering something about toad toes and marmosets.

Another witch was chasing her small daughter around the room, but just as she was about to reach the little whirling dervish, the girl slipped under a display of Ton-Tongue Taffies. The mother, having been pushed to a frenzied state beyond all reason, dived in after her daughter, knocking the entire display over in the process. A corpulent wizard in a red velvet top hat, who'd just wandered in out of curiosity, tripped over the display, and went soaring headlong into a pile of feathers.

The feathers being in great abundance, since a self-replenishing plate of free Canary Cremes, tempted many a first year into becoming a bright yellow bird.

It was chaos: mass produced by Fred and George.

Though not very well supervised by Fred and George, as they were preoccupied with more important things than protecting their store from self-destruction.

George, himself, was leaning heavily on the storefront counter, exchanging easy banter with a strikingly gorgeous girl.

She was laden with packages that must have been quite cumbersome, though you couldn't tell it by the graceful way she stood. Her long, mahogany-brown hair hung loose, falling smoothly down her back. And her eyes, deep blue and framed by long dark lashes, were trained intently on George.

As for Fred, he too was completely oblivious too the havoc around him. His mouth hung open in unabashed awe and he was drooling slightly. He was not managing as easily as George, the girl's presence having transformed him into a verbally challenged wreak. Occasionally he'd make a blurbling noise that sounded predominantly of hormones.

Ron led the way over to his brothers, making his way almost effortlessly through the clamoring people and exploding objects. After sixteen years with Fred and George, this skill had become second nature.

"Hey you guys! This place is amazing," hailed Ron.

Fred and George didn't respond.

"I said HI, " yelled Ron, directly in Fred's ear.

Was that a mosquito? How frustrating.

"HeLLO! Your very youngest brother, about to venture off to school to be separated from you for who knows how many months, and you don't even turn around when I say hi?!"

Both failed to notice Ron.

The girl, however, did.

"I think your brother's here."

"Who?" said George.

Fred remained blissfully hebetudinous.

"Your brother. Ron," explained the girl sweetly, pointing a rose-pink nail in Ron's direction.

"Oh him," said George, staring directly over Ron's head. "Where?"

"You know who I am?" asked Ron, going very red, though calming considerably from his small tantrum.

"Of course she does," said Hermione, poking Ron sharply in the side. The last thing she needed was another awe-struck redhead. "She's in our year at school."

Ron blinked, clearing his vision enough to look past 'totally hot girl', and see an actual person. Very difficult indeed for most teenage boys.

"Oh. I knew that," said Ron, attempting to recover. "You're, er... Amanda, right?"

"Pretty close. It's actually Mandy, Mandy Brocklehurst," said the girl now known as Mandy.

"That's short for Amanda though, isn't it?" inquired Harry who'd regained his hearing, and thought he'd attempt to be sociable.

The brunette turned on Harry, shooting him a look that hit like a rusty dagger. "No," she snapped in a disgruntled growl. "It's short for Miranda, not..." she shuttered, "Amanda."

Harry, startled by the ferociousness directed at him for such an innocent comment, lowered his head in shame.

Ron, however, seemed oblivious to the sudden change in mood.

"Oh yeah, I get that a lot too," he said.

"Mm hmm, everyone thinks Ron's real name's Amanda," offered George.

"No!" said Ron horrified. "It's just that everyone calls me Ron, because it's short for Ronald. But, I'm always getting asked if my real name is Ronan."

"I know just how you feel," said Mandy, with complete sympathy, reverting back to her original airy tone.

"Who calls you Ronan?" asked Hermione skeptically.

"Some people..."

Hermione made a thoroughly exasperated noise, then turned her attention to George, as opposed to Fred who, judging by the glazed expression on his face, wouldn't have noticed getting hit by an eighteen-wheeler.

"We should probably start off for the station. Mrs. Weasley said you were going to drive us?"

"Yeah, of course," confirmed George, glancing over his shoulder at Fred, who remained utterly unresponsive. "I guess I'll take you. Fred will... mind the store."

Harry wondered vaguely if this was even physically possible in Fred's current state, while Ron had a particularly bright idea.

"Do you, um, need a ride?" he asked Mandy. "We're..., well, going to King's Cross... to the train and, you know, school..."

"Could you really?" replied Mandy enthusiastically, saving Ron form further explanation. "I was just going to take a cab, but that would be so much easier."

And so they departed, leaving the store in the capable hands of Fred Weasley, who gazed longingly (stared openly) at the departing figure of Mandy Brocklehurst. She glanced over her shoulder, shot Fred a flirtatious wink, then swept the door shut behind.

~~

They exited onto the bustling alley, flowing haphazardly with all manner of shoppers. Following George, they wove their way down the street toward the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. But they had only gotten a few feet away from number ninety-three when the clamor of the street was suddenly over-shadowed by tremendous bangs and distressed shouts coming from somewhere behind them. The movement in the alley came to a sudden halt as people paused to look in the direction of the noise.

Sparks were flying out of the roof of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, as screaming people came streaming out of the door. They were trailed by screeching purple bats, and an enchanted electric blue falcon, both made up entirely of flaming sparks.

Looks like Ferguson discovered the fireworks.

The people's screams mounted as flaming-pink Catherine wheel broke through the store's window, showering the street with glass. Then, behind it, an enormous green and gold dragon firework, bigger than any of the ones unleashed on Umbridge the year before, flew into the street, spewing red-hot flames just above the heads of the horrified shoppers. But instead of heading into the sky along with the other freed fireworks, it spun around and came speeding towards Harry and his friends.

"Duck!" Hermione screamed, dropping to the ground and pulling Harry down with her. Ron pushed Mandy down with them.

Looking up, Harry saw through skewed glasses as the dragon swished by, just inches from his head.

Once it had flown by, everyone scrambled up, searching the sky for any another malicious dragon. It was wheeling around in the sky, as if preparing to dive at them again.

Hermione turned to George ferociously, "Aren't you going to do something? Those things came from your store!'

"I'm sure Fred can handle it," said George quickly. "Let's just go.'

And so they hurried off toward The Leaky Cauldron, just outrunning the flames of the emerald dragon following them in hot pursuit.

~~

"You saved my life!"

Mandy Brocklehurst had been in the middle of an enthusiastic conversation with Hermione about what it was like to be in Ravenclaw, and the differences between the houses, when she suddenly spun around and grabbed Ron's arm, informing him of this abrupt realization. Ron, who'd been picking up his luggage from underneath a table in the Leaky Cauldron, where he'd let it earlier that morning, dropped a trunk on his foot in surprise.

"Oof!" cried Ron, grimacing.

And in fact, he had saved her life. Of course, Ron would never have thought twice about it, he was always saving people's lives. Why, just yesterday he'd saved Hermione from getting crushed by a falling piano. She's never thanked him for it, and truthfully he hadn't even noticed the lack of recognition. That is to say, not until now.

Mandy stared at Ron with pure gratitude in her eyes, "That dragon would've hit me if it wasn't for you! The way you pulled me to the ground, that was so brave!"

"Oh um, thanks," mumbled Ron, turning rather red, and forgetting about the throbbing pain in his foot.

"Of course, I knew you had great reflexes, from watching you play Quidditch and all..."

"You've seen me play Quidditch?" Ron still looked a bit embarrassed, but also extremely pleased.

And so, Ron and Mandy talked about Quidditch all the way to George's car (a souped-up, electric green Ford Angelina, purchased in fondest memory of Mr. Weasley's old vehicle). Then they talked about Quidditch on the ride to Kings Cross. For Hermione, who was sitting directly between them, this was like watching a washing machine commercial over and over and over again; all the same, all boring, and it never ends. She tuned out most of it, although she did catch the occasional snippet here and there.

"No one could believe it when you made that save last year," said Mandy enthusiastically. "Not to be offensive or anything, but everyone thought we would beat Gryffindor. Then, when you stopped that Quaffle... well it was a save worthy of the Chudley Cannons, back in their glory days."

"You like the Chudley Cannons?" asked Ron incredulously.

"Look," Mandy said defensively, her temper flaring, "I don't care what anyone says. Even if it's been over a hundred years since they won the championships, they're still the best team in the league."

As if Ron's day could get any better.

It turned out that Mandy's favorite team of all time was none other than the Chudley Cannons. Last year, she had actually met (met!) Joey Jenkins, the Cannon's Beater extraordinaire. He'd even signed her bra.

Then, half an hour later...

"It must be so stressful playing keeper," said Mandy, with complete understanding.

"Not at all," replied Ron airily. "I never get nervous."

A half snort, half-stifled laugh came from the driver's seat. Hermione just managed to maintain her composure.

~~

They arrived at Kings Cross at 10:59 sharp, ran through the brick barrier to platform nine and three quarters and got their last bag onto the train just as it was pulling out of the station. George waited until they were safely on their way (Mrs. Weasley's orders, on penalty of death) before going back to the store.

Ron finally found an empty compartment, carrying Mandy's bags along with his own all the way. Ron and Mandy sat down side by side (Hermione thought surely sitting that close in public bordered on indecency) without a single lapse in conversation.

This was getting to be too much.

"You know", said Hermione in an excited falsetto (reeking with sarcasm), "Not only is he a keeper, Ron plays chess too! Isn't that amazing?"

It turned out that this was amazing, particularly to Mandy Brocklehurst, who started into an enthusiastic discussion of chess tactics, and detailed debate over the strategy of castling.

~~

About half way through the trip, Mandy and Ron were still absorbed in conversation, Harry was scribbling in his black notebook once again, and Hermione was thinking that this was sure to be a very boring trip.

But then Draco Malfoy opened the door.

"So it's true," he said evenly in that distinctly drawling voice, made slightly less sinister by a note of incredulity.

He was looking straight at Harry, who'd frozen the moment he'd glimpsed the haughty blond. "Hello Draco, have a nice summer?" asked Mandy, with what sounded suspiciously like cordiality. Hermione smiled, sensing that things had just gotten quite a bit more interesting.

"Mandy! Did you miss me?" asked Draco Malfoy, apparently seeing her for the first time. "It was splendid actually, we vacationed in Suva for almost a month. That's in Fiji for your information, Weasley."

"I know where it is, " spat Ron, the absent-minded grin that he'd worn most of the trip having left his face the moment he saw Malfoy. He was extremely aggravated by the way Malfoy was talking to Mandy, and wasn't about to let him know that he had positively no idea what 'FeeGee' was. Anyway, it was probably some Voldemort affiliated youth organization if Malfoy was going there.

"Where you spent all your free time torturing small animals, I'm sure?" inquired Hermione with utter civility.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" asked Harry darkly.

"Oh Potter, I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure of talking to your bright and sunny self," exclaimed Malfoy. "Loosing the battle against some prolonged and deadly illness I hope?"

"Always the polite one aren't you Malfoy?" said Hermione, "But really, what in the world are you here for?"

"Well I heard..." he began, then turned abruptly away from Hermione to face Mandy Brocklehurst (much to Ron's annoyance) "I heard that you," he said, "were in here. But of course, I couldn't bring myself to believe such an... uncharacteristic choice of company without seeing it for myself.'

'Uncharacteristic' was by far the nicest way Draco Malfoy had ever described Harry, or either of his friends.

"Why shouldn't she sit with us?" asked Ron. "It sure beats being anywhere near you."

"And also," Malfoy continued as if Ron had never spoken, "I need to talk to you. Alone."

Perhaps Ron could have restrained himself if it hadn't been for that last pointed word, which is exactly why Draco said it. Ron leapt to his feet and went straight and went straight for the throat.

Mandy, however, was quicker. She knew just as well as everyone else what Draco Malfoy's relationship with was Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She'd been ready.

She slid between the two, putting herself within inches of so much ragged male adrenaline.

"Ron, it's fine. I'll go."

She stared him down defensively; leaving Ron too shocked to speak.

Draco, having calculated the new situation almost instantly, and realizing he had gained the upper hand, let his mood flow smoothly from maliciously fighting to maliciously winning.

"While it was just as lovely as always speaking to you three, I'm afraid we really do have to go," he said sweetly, while impertinently sliding open the cabin door.

"After you," Draco said, stepping aside to let Mandy pass. She walked past him obligingly, though stiffly, while Draco most obviously checked out her ass, or at least that's how it looked to Ron, who was doing exactly the same thing. "It's only gentlemanly to let the ladies go first."

Draco followed her out, turning back for one last smirk.

The moment he closed the door, Harry and Hermione, with eyebrows raised, looked purposefully at Ron, who, already flushed with barley contained fury, had deepened several shades of red. He avoided their eyes and skulked off to a corner.

After sitting sullenly for a few minutes (and trying to hide it) Ron said, "I suppose I'll check in with the prefects now," and hurried out the door. This left Harry and Hermione alone, Hermione having checked in ages ago.

~~

Harry sat scrunched into one corner of the compartment, doing his brooding hero thing, so intensely it was rather disturbing. He obviously wasn't in the mood for conversation, but that alone was not going to dissuade Hermione from asking her question. The lightening incident that morning had confirmed her suspicions, and then there were those lethal fireworks in the alley. Of course, she had figured something was peculiar was going on yesterday (no one is that unlucky), and had been working on a theory ever since.

Just ask him, she told herself. It's the only way to keep him from getting hurt.

But Harry was already hurt, damaged deeper than anyone was willing to admit.

Hermione stood up and crossed the small compartment. He didn't notice her movement until she was sitting right next to him. He sat up startled, then slammed the small notebook he had been writing in shut.

"Oh um, hi Hermione," he said, attempting nonchalance.

"Hey Harry," she said firmly, taking a no nonsense approach. "Can I ask you a question? It's important."

"Sure," he said hesitantly, almost as if he was scared of what she was going to say.

"What did you wish for?" Hermione asked steadily.

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Hermione felt a barrier rise between them, like a circle of flames. It was not a fortress that hid Harry's pain from view, but it kept anyone from approaching him for fear of being burned.

"Oh, just, um, something," replied Harry lamely. "You know,"

"Not really."

He sighed. "I... I'd really rather not talk about it."

Hermione continued to look at Harry for a few more moments, then turned away. Really he could be so frustrating sometimes. But, he seemed so fragile right now; she didn't feel like she should press him any further. Mrs. Weasley wasn't the only one handling Harry delicately. Hermione knew he had so much to think about, and whether she was happy with it or not, he would think about it alone. She and Harry and Ron: for being such close friends for so many years, they never truly talked. Not earnestly, and not about the important things.

~~

They'd been sitting in not so comfortable silence for over a quarter of an hour when all the lights went out, plunging them into complete darkness.

"Wha-" Hermione managed, before her breath was knocked away completely as the train came to an abrupt stop, forcefully throwing her against the seat.

The grinding halt caused their trunks to topple from above, landing on the floor with a hard bang, throwing robes and books everywhere. The noise only continued to grow, as they heard screams and the shrieking of first years coming from every direction. Panicked voices and questions resounding through the train.

"What's going on?"

"Dark wizards!"

"Help! My trunk fell on me and I can't get up!"

Were just a few of the exclamations that Harry heard.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked after catching his own breath, feeling his way towards Hermione in the dark.

"Fine. I'm fine," she said, her voice drifting from somewhere near the window. She slid back the red velvet curtains to peer outside.

They had stopped in what was most simply the middle of nowhere, an empty field with sparse trees, illuminated solely by starlight. Hogwarts castle was nowhere in sight.

She dropped the curtain back in surprise as a man's voice rose suddenly around them.

"PLEASE REMAIN CALM," it boomed with only a hint of panic. "PREFECTS WILL BE CHECKING EACH COMPARTMENT MOMENTARILY. EVERYONE ELSE REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE"

The deafening instructions subsided and Hermione turned to Harry. "I guess that means I need to go. Will you be ok?"

"Look, I'm fine, just go.'

And so Hermione opened the cabin door and hurried out into the hall, leaving Harry alone in the compartment.

Ever since getting on the train, Harry had thought he would be happy, if only everyone would just leave him alone. But after Hermione's departure, it only took a few moments to realize that being alone in a dark train while everyone else ran about in terror (completely disregarding instructions) was mind numbingly boring. So Harry made his way over the busted trunks and scattered objects on the floor, to see what was going on outside.

His first impression of the scene was rather striking. There were feathers of all things dusting the floor. They filled the air, drifting on up currents and settling in his hair. It looked like a flock of chickens had exploded.

The majority of the fluffy white bits seemed to have settled around the slightly ajar door of the compartment opposite. It also seemed to be the only door with light coming from it, and, Harry realized, occasional fit of giggles was thrown in with the usual terrified shrieks.

Totally disregarding what he should have learned from certain previous bad experiences relating to intriguing and mysterious doors, Harry decided to investigate.

He slid the door back and was met with a scene the likes of which he had never seen before.

Lavender Brown, Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, and Terry Boot were having a rather intense pillow fight, prancing and darting about the compartment, in a snowstorm of down stuffing. Aside from a profusion of feathers, the small room was also filled with smoke coming (mostly) from a small fire burning brightly in the middle of the floor.

Which actually makes perfect sense. How else could Seamus Finnegan and Parvati Patil roast marshmallows?

"Harry!" Seamus hailed from the floor, raising a glass jubilantly and sloshing himself (still further) with an amber colored liquid. "Come, hic!, on in! We're having a last day of summer party!"

Harry, who couldn't have moved even if he wanted to, stared at them awkwardly.

"Er...I just was wondering if anyone knew why the train stopped?"

"The train stopped?" asked Parvati, then burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Lavender, distracted from the pillow fight by this new information. "I would swear the train is still moving. Spinning actually." And then she passed out.

Harry, still glued to the spot, would've run to her aid, but was halted by a familiar voice.

"It stopped fifteen minutes ago," said Ginny to no one in particular. Harry had failed to notice her in the smoky room, sitting in a corner and staring dazedly into the fire, with Dean's Thomas's arm wrapped around her waist.

Harry was about to attempt a choked sound of incredulity, when the floor below him moved rapidly to the right, throwing him into the door frame of the now moving train. The last thing he was aware of before everything went black was a resounding crack, which to have come from his very own head.

~~

"No visitors outside of hours!" cried Madame Pomfrey, shooing Hermione out of the way and slamming the infirmary's door shut decisively.

Hermione had come to visit Harry, but being decidedly frazzled, she was not aware that it was six o'clock in the morning. Harry had been in the infirmary for over a week now, still knocked out after the accident in the train. Hermione was worried about him, and not only because he'd have a truckload of homework to make up after missing so much school. (Lucky bastard, as Ron would say). At least in the infirmary he couldn't get himself into any more life-threatening trouble.

She'd told Ron about her suspicions early on, but when she's asked him to come look in the library with her (since how else was she going to find out what was happening to Harry, if he wouldn't even tell her what he'd wished for?) he refused. Ron claimed to believe that Harry was just having an unlucky streak, and although Hermione suspected that Ron didn't really believe that himself, she understood why he was trying to.

Maybe if you deny that there's a problem, it will go away. You know, like magic.

So working alone, Hermione devoted all her free time (when she wasn't visiting Harry or trucking through the immense amount of work her teachers had assigned) to doing research late into the night. She had scoured the shelves for any book she could find on wishes, but there wasn't a single volume devoted to the topic alone, and any books that mentioned wishes, dealt with them as a risky and unreliable sort of magic, almost to be considered a dark art.

So, the library was where Hermione headed now, prepared to work until her first class.

Madame Pince was the only other person there, watching Hermione with hawk-like eyes. Even after six years of almost perfect library behavior, she still distrusted that frizzy-haired girl, and Hermione knew it.

But after a week of frustration, that wasn't going to keep Hermione from tapping the last of all available resources.

"Madam Pince," Hermione began briskly. "I'm looking for a book."

"Have you checked the shelves?" suggested the woman generously.

"Yes, and I have yet to find anything helpful. I'm looking for a book that goes into some depth on the study of wishes."

Instead of asking why Hermione needed something like that, and exactly what she thought she was up to, doing research on such an obscure topic so early in the morning, Madam Pince replied agreeably, "Well then, I might have the perfect thing for you."

She stooped down and brought a large and very ancient looking gray book from under the desk, setting it gently on the desk top in front of her.

"Is that it?" exclaimed Hermione in enthusiastically. Only she could get so excited over a big old book.

"No, this is The Book. It records every book that's checked out of this library, and exactly who's taken it."

Madam Pince conjured up a large magnifying glass, peering through at The Book's pages, filled with miniscule writing.

Hermione look over Madame Pince's shoulder, noticing that her name appeared quite a number of times.

"I know we have a book that would be perfect for you. The only problem is if someone taken it out already," she mumbled, running her finger down the page, "Ah, here it is! Someone checked it out the first day of school."

Hermione looked at the name written neatly beside a book called Rubbing Lanterns and Conversing with Stars: An Extensive Study of Wish by Professor Altbua Dangarembaga, and grimaced. How could he have gotten to it before her?

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, thanked Madam Pince, and hurried out of the library. She was going to get that book no matter what, even if that meant taking it from Draco Malfoy.