Three Decembers

Part IV: Secrets

I was walking down the street
A stranger said to me
Be careful what you do
Then when waiting for a train
I heard a strange refrain
I'd watch out if I were you, boy
Is something going to happen soon?
Something's going to happen soon.

~Soon by The Squirrel Nut Zippers

Harry wandered from the library, feeling distracted and uneasy. He hadn't liked the way Hermione and Malfoy were alone outside of the locker room. He hadn't liked the panicked look on Hermione's face. When he made a reference to it to Malfoy as they studied tactics laboriously together, the other boy only said that it was very uncomfortable trying to make up a conversation with a "know-it-all mudblood". Harry had started an argument over this, but Malfoy backed down fairly quickly. He didn't apologize, however. Harry didn't think he ever did.

It was strange, how the acquaintance built itself. From going head to head almost daily to being nearly civil to one another in less than a year was somewhat awkward for Harry. It all started with the detention... Harry shivered slightly. He didn't want to think about it now. It was in the past. Buried. Forgotten.

Hopefully...

Harry thought uneasily.

His footsteps in the empty hall brought him to think about how alone he was. Not only in the corridor, but in his life. The shadows danced around his body and enveloped him in their suffocating arms. It almost reminded him of Molly Weasley. Harry's finger twitched, thinking of his dead friend's mother. How she could have possibly forgiven him for leading Ron to his death, he never understood. Sometimes he imagined that she secretly despised him; resented him for living when her son died. Ron could have been alive then. If he had not left. If he had not fought to protect Harry. He could be the one walking this lonely hall and making "nice" with Draco Malfoy.

Harry snorted, even though his throat burned in the warning of oncoming tears. He clenched his hand and shook his shaggy head. When he did this he almost believed the thoughts were knocked into the back of his skull; covered with other scattered things that decorated his brain. He automatically reached for his scar. It was smooth and warm underneath his clammy hands.

Voldemort.

Harry shook his head again. The thought faded almost as quickly as it came. Still distracted, he slipped his fingers through his knotted, messy hair.

James. His dad. James ruffling his own hair and making it even messier.

Sirius. Sirius messing up Harry's hair, hugging him, looking pleased and proud of his godson.

Ron. Ron after his big win in fifth year, looking almost like James as he smiled and swept his fingers though his hair.

Ron. Frustrated.

Ron. Embarrassed.

Ron. Bored

Harry yanked his hands out of his hair and closed his eyes. Why did everything have to remind him of his failures? Soon he was at his destination, without even realizing he was headed there. Before him was a long stretch of stone wall. One brick was slightly discolored and stained. It was almost unnoticeable, which is what Harry had intended. He tapped the stone right above it, using it as a landmark.

"Protraho."

The stone wall melted back, revealing a lonely looking door. Harry smiled in accomplishment at the memory of when he first found the perfect room, and disguised it perfectly in his opinion. It was foolproof, and secretive. Definitely secretive.

There was no doorknob on the door, just a rather large key hole. Harry smiled again, beginning to feel a little cocky. He slid his wand tip into the key hole.

"Lumos."

The tip of the wand lit up and the doorknob appeared. He didn't bother to touch it.

"Adaperio," Harry whispered.

The door flew open at once, banging against the wall as it did. Harry flinched.

I really do need to fix that problem...

It wasn't that Harry was paranoid or overly cautious, but it seemed in the best interest of everyone to make sure the door was as secure and as tricky to open as possible. The only way to get into Harry's room was to go through the spell process precisely, after finding the right stone, of course. To top it all, Harry found the most least known and unexpected spells for it. If there was anything he was ever truly proud of, it was spelling that single door.

He did it all by himself, without any luck or help.

Something nagged at the back of his mind though. He couldn't believe it was truly safe yet.

Maybe I'll add a password to the door...

Harry thought to himself as he stepped through the threshold. It seemed like an intelligent idea, and he was very satisfied with it.

Harry glanced back as he closed the door behind him. Hermione would be most proud of him if she knew all the trouble and research he went through to get it. He looked around the room for a minute and suddenly frowned.

Hermione definitely wouldn't be proud of him if she knew what he was doing in it.

Though much work was done to the old classroom during the months that Harry visited it, it still had not attained the look of being used. The only clues anywhere were the footprints in the thick dust on the floor and the only corner of the room that was somewhat clean. On the rickety teacher's desk in the front of the room held a compact pewter cauldron. Knives and various instruments lay around it hazardously, shining faintly from the moonlight filtering through the windows. Harry went behind the desk and opened some of the drawers. Inside them held plants, vials, and several different types of potions ingredients.