Circle's Close

Chapter Twenty-Three: Secrets and Lies

***

"Knut for your thoughts?"

There was a small pause as Harry tightened his hold around Hermione's abdomen, pulling her closer to him and nuzzling her bushy hair with his nose. His back was pressed uncomfortably against a beech tree which stood near the edge of the lake, but this didn't concern him in the least.

"The only thing on my mind right now is just how much I love you," Harry finally answered, and he felt, rather than saw, her smile at his response.

"Is that all?" asked Hermione, and there was a distinct note of apprehension in her tone that didn't go unnoticed to Harry, though he was sure that she didn't want him to see how concerned she actually was.

"You're thinking about the prediction," Harry automatically guessed, and her back involuntarily stiffened against him. He kissed her behind her ear at an attempt to ease her anxiety over the issue, and was rewarded when she slowly relaxed in his arms.

Yesterday afternoon, Trelawney had made her eerie prediction in the classroom, and Harry had told Hermione and Ron about it immediately after their Defense lesson with Sirius. And while they hadn't had the opportunity to discuss the prediction since then, Harry had a feeling that Hermione was anxious to talk about it and perhaps dig beneath the surface of the words in the prediction.

"What do you reckon?" Harry asked Hermione.

"The first words of the prediction included a mention of ... blood, dragon fire and wood, didn't it?" Hermione said, and continued on once Harry nodded. "I've been doing a bit of thinking about the wood ... and the dragon fire."

"Me, too," Harry said. "Dragon fire -- could that be Hagrid's dragons?"

"Or the mother," Hermione suggested darkly. "Hagrid has been adamant from the beginning that the mother was kidnapped, and now we have actual reason to believe that that's the truth."

"Who would steal a full-grown Bulgarian Devil Bane?" asked Harry. "And -- more importantly -- why?"

"Well, that's what I asked myself a couple days ago, too," Hermione admitted slowly. "And then it hit me: Death Eaters."

An unexpected light of awareness lit up inside Harry's mind as realization dawned on him. "And with Voldemort vanquished," he said, thinking deeply, "that means that the Death Eaters are more than likely planning to rally together -- they're probably doing it right now -- as we speak."

"Except that the majority of them are locked up in Azkaban," Hermione reminded him. "Before they can unite and return to their old tricks -- murder, torture --"

"Killing me --" added Harry wryly.

"-- they need one, very important thing," Hermione continued as though Harry hadn't spoken. "The very same thing which was taken from them upon their conviction."

"Their wands," Harry concluded. "They had their wands snapped before they were chucked to the Dementors -- and if they do escape -- "

"They'll need new wands. And I don't think that they'll be returning to Mr. Ollivander to supply them with what they need."

"You think that they're going to make their own wands," Harry told her, finding this assumption more believable than he cared for.

"The mother-dragon must play a major role in this," Hermione told Harry. "Dark wizards, I find, seem to favor dragon heartstrings in their wands more than any other core. And the Bulgarian Devil's Bane is the darkest breed of dragons that exist. Dark dragon equals dark magic. And then ..." she added in a dramatic whisper, "there's the wood which they intend to use to make the wands."

"From the sound of that," Harry said with a pale smile, "I take it you don't think they'll just cut down the first tree they find swarming with bowtruckles and carve it up into wands?"

Hermione shook her head, craning her neck to look up at him. "The Hanging Tree," she told him. Harry nodded gravely, agreeing with her logic, because it just made too much sense to dismiss it. "We already know that the Tree has been destroyed by powerful, dark magic," Hermione resumed. "But we never knew for what purpose. It's like the wizard in the Christmas article said: where has all the wood gone? But if you combine the potency of the mother-dragon and the darkness of the Hanging Tree -- imagine what their wands could do once they were completed."

"They'll have a power more foul than anyone has yet faced," Harry told her. "One Death Eater would be easy enough to take care of, providing the one facing him was a highly-skilled Auror. But a legion of Death Eaters, bent on destruction, murder, and vengeance?"

"There has been no recent news about any major break-out from Azkaban," Hermione added. "But it's only a matter of time. It's just like the line from the prediction: The midnight hour strikes; the key unlocks the door to set death free. We don't know when it's going to happen. But even if we did, we'd have to let the Order and the Aurors handle it, because your fight is over, Harry. Voldemort is gone."

Hermione paused and seemed to sense his agitation, because in that moment she turned to face him and she cupped his face in her palm, soothing out the wrinkles of worry across forehead. "I'm not naïve enough to believe that the Death Eaters won't come looking for you. The Princess may have stripped them of their master, but they will blame you. And when the time comes ... we'll stand and fight -- together. We've been training for five solid months now, and even Remus says that if anything happened right now, we'd be ready. And I believe him."

Harry turned his face and kissed her palm in answer, before she let it drop back into her lap, a silent indication that dropping the topic of the prediction was probably best for the moment. And Harry was glad for it. He pushed the prediction to the back of his mind and focused entirely on the woman in his arms.

Silence fell over the two lovers as they stared up at the velvet night sky, tiny diamonds winking down at them from above. There was a nagging feeling in the back of Harry's mind as he watched the multiple patterns of stars, and he laughed to himself as he realized that he had become much more attentive to the stars ever since Trelawney had assigned them their homework the day before.

"Did you know that a year ago today, these stars were in the exact same position as they are now?" Harry asked Hermione. She smiled, craning her neck to look lovingly into his face.

"I hadn't the faintest idea," she said, trying her best to conceal a teasing grin.

Harry frowned with mocking displeasure. "Liar," he accused lightheartedly. "Here I am ... trying to impress you with my incredible knowledge -- "

Hermione cut him off, turning completely in his arms and kissing him full on the lips. She pulled back, gazing into his eyes. "You should know by now, love, that it takes much, much more than that to impress me."

"Oh?" asked Harry, and after kissing her back he licked his lips, quirked a brow and added, "Flowers, then?"

"Well, I suppose it would be rather difficult to top this," she admitted, holding up her right hand and wiggling her third finger. The Promise ring gleamed under the light of the moon and stars, showing off the three symbols of trust, loyalty and love.

"You still like that thing, huh?" Harry teased and Hermione drew back in mock horror, cradling her ring as though he had just insulted her newborn child. He laughed, drawing her back into her arms and rubbing her right hand affectionately.

"This thing," Hermione said, sounding affronted, "saved my life a year ago."

"A year ago," Harry said disbelievingly, his hands sliding back down to her abdomen as she leaned back into him. "Has a year gone by already?"

"You tell me, star-gazer," Hermione said with a soft smile as she looked up at the cloudless, star-filled sky. "This Sunday will mark the one year anniversary of Voldemort's destruction -- and our contribution to freeing Princess Amara."

Harry gave a start, peering down into Hermione's face, which was still staring up at the sky, fixed in a dreamy expression that looked all too familiar.

"Princess Amara?" he asked, and her eyes slid over to meet his. "Since when does she have a name? And how do you know what it is?"

"Of course she has a name!" Hermione laughed. "Exactly how do you think her subjects addressed her when she was alive? As for how I learned of it -- you'd get a more satisfactory answer out of your godmother."

Harry made a sound of dawning comprehension. He remembered, from over a month ago when Claire had re-entered their lives, that she had appeared positively elated upon seeing Hermione's Promise ring (which Claire still referred to as the Friendship ring). And he remembered, too, when Claire had mentioned writing a research paper in her 7th year about myths -- focusing mostly on the legend of the Friendship ring, and the Spirit which had once inhabited it.

"She's a fountain of knowledge, your godmother," Hermione continued with approval.

"Just like you," Harry said proudly. "It's odd to think of the Princess as something more than just a nameless spirit. It makes her feel more real, somehow." He paused and sighed, thinking about that fateful night that had taken place almost one year ago. "I hope she realizes just how grateful we are to her. A whole year without Voldemort -- it doesn't get any better than that."

"How about our whole lives?" Hermione said with a smile. "Just as Princess Amara once said ... his reign of terror has ended. We may have his loyal followers to face, but soon they will be no more. Personally, I wish there was a way that we could repay the Princess. I did have this one thought ..."

Harry frowned. "What kind of thought?" he asked uncertainly, wondering what ideas were working themselves out behind her brown eyes.

"Well -- I was thinking about the Eternal from the Golden Eagle," Hermione said in a sort of dreamy whisper. "Maybe ... if we passed a message to her ... she could ... I don't know ... pass it along to the Princess," she finished lamely.

Harry continued to stare at her and only when she blinked up innocently at him did he say, "What has the Eternal got to do with the Princess?"

Hermione's twinkling laughter put him in such a state of bewilderment that his mind fogged over and he missed her answer. After he asked her to repeat herself, she sighed, looking up at him apologetically.

"Sometimes, I forget to tell you the simplest things," she said, sounding amused. "Often, I just assume that Claire will fill you in where I have not. Princess Amara is an Eternal -- or she was when she was alive."

Harry's mouth dropped. "She was a -- since when?" Seeing the light twinkle of mirth in her eyes, Harry passed his hand over his forehead, skimming his lightning bolt scar while he continued to look at her, finding it difficult to accept this new information.

"Claire only gave me a brief history of the Eternals," Hermione answered matter-of-factly. "Her report did not involve Eternals -- but she had to research them nonetheless, to understand the legend of the Ring better. She told me that Princess Amara was the last of the Royal Family in the Final War that took place over a thousand years ago, effectively destroying nearly the entire Eternal race. I can't remember the name of the Dark Sorcerer who initially led the opposing side and Cursed the Princess -- you'll have to ask Claire when you get the chance."

Harry shook his head. "They're immortal -- how could that war wipe out the entire race?"

"They can die in battle," Hermione informed him, and he nodded, deciding that this made perfect sense. "Or if they choose to become mortal -- which had never happened in their time because they were all content to be immortal. It wasn't until after the Final War that the few remaining Eternals gave up their immortality. If you'll recall, I mentioned that Eternals are as rare as a true Seer. I meant what I said. As far as we know, there are only three who exist to this day."

"There's the one who works at the Golden Eagle," Harry said.

"She doesn't work there," Hermione corrected him gently. "Meaning, she doesn't get paid to be there. She just is there ... she enjoys being surrounded by people. She was also present when the Princess had the Curse placed on her -- and her ring."

"Her ring?" asked Harry -- staring down at the Promise ring. "I thought the Dark wizard was the one who created it."

"It was Amara's ring -- a family legacy," Hermione elaborated. "There was a ritual of a sort to protect Amara's spirit ... but no one really knows how or what the three Eternals did. I suppose that the only way to find out for sure is to ask Cytheria."

"Who?"

"The Eternal from the Golden Eagle," Hermione quickly replied. "Yes, she has a name, too. She's the Eternal of Love." Seeing the puzzled look on Harry's face, she smiled and continued. "During the time of the Final War, there were three significant Eternals who were close to the royal family -- the same Eternals who are alive to this day. I don't know the names of the other two, nor does Claire. We only know, from occasional reports, that one currently lives in South America. As for the other Eternal, we're uncertain.

"In the Peaceful days, before the War, each Eternal represented a special, very powerful spiritual emotion -- for lack of better words. It seems that each Eternal represents a symbol on this Ring --" she lifted up her right hand. "The heart, obviously, represents love -- which is Cytheria's domain."

"What about the other two?" asked Harry, running his finger across a golden star and a simple flower with five petals, which sat on either side of the golden heart.

"The flower symbolizes loyalty, that's my best guess," Hermione said. "And the star represents trust. But -- like I said before -- no one really knows for certain where the other two Representing Eternals are. Their names have never been recorded by any hand, witch, wizard or Muggle."

"What if they're ... not around anymore?"

"They haven't passed on," Hermione said determinedly. "And they haven't given up their immortality. They're around ... somewhere. They're still connected to this ring, you know. Just as the Princess is. I sometimes wonder if they're all connected to each other because of this Ring."

Harry thought about the Eternal at the Golden Eagle and considered Hermione's suggestion about speaking with her. "Why don't we go tomorrow to visit her?"

Hermione looked up at him. "Well, tomorrow is our last Hogsmeade trip of the year, and I already promised Claire I'd watch over the hospital wing for her during that day. So we can't go along with everyone else."

"Fair enough," Harry replied. "We'll go on Sunday. We can make a special trip -- just you and me. I think it would be rather fitting, don't you? We can celebrate Voldemort's destruction by honoring the memory of the person who vanquished him."

Hermione nodded, smiling happily as she leaned back into him. "I can't think of a better way to spend that day. I'm sure Dumbledore will give his Head Boy and Girl permission to go. But we'll have to ask by tomorrow -- since both Dumbledore and McGonagall are spending the weekend in London."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? Since when?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "It's almost amusing the way you slip in and out of consciousness whenever Dumbledore is speaking with us."

"Why are they going to London?" asked Harry, ignoring Hermione's remark. "And why are they going for the whole weekend?"

"They have to, don't they?" asked Hermione. "They have about ten meetings to attend concerning Hogwarts' curriculum for next year -- and since all the meetings are spread out over the span of two days to accommodate other work schedules, Dumbledore and McGonagall plan to stay overnight."

"I don't seem to recall previous London trips where Dumbledore and McGonagall both had to leave," Harry said. "I take it that this doesn't happen every year?"

"Every decade," Hermione answered with a small smile. "Typically, the meetings go by rather smoothly, from what Dumbledore explained to us. Of course, this also means that they'll be leaving --"

"-- Snape in charge," Harry finished bitterly. He suddenly remembered a small mention of the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress departing for one weekend. He hadn't realized that it was this particular weekend, however.

"Well, they have to do this before exams begin," Hermione explained, smiling with sympathy. "I'm sure Snape won't be that bad."

Realization hit Harry squarely between the eyes. "Sirius and Claire won't be here, either! This is bloody fantastic," he muttered sarcastically.

"Have they made a decision on where they want to go already?" Hermione asked delicately, her sympathy for Harry growing more pronounced.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, resting his head on the back of the beech tree and staring up at the night sky. "They're going to Canada ..."

"To visit Claire's parents, I presume?" asked Hermione. "I thought they ... didn't exactly like ... Sirius," she hesitated to say.

"They don't," Harry confirmed. "Claire and Sirius are not staying with them. They're taking up a motel and they'll be spending the whole weekend picking up the last of Claire's things and sending them randomly to Hogwarts via Knight Bus. She has a few loose ends to tie up before she moves here permanently. She didn't exactly give everyone a proper goodbye when she left, because she didn't know she wouldn't be going back."

"I'm glad she didn't," Hermione admitted softly. "But I wonder ..."

"What?" asked Harry.

Hermione smiled up at him. "They were engaged twenty years ago. They didn't technically break up, you know. They were just on an involuntary separation."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"I'm just curious about whether that still makes them an engaged couple is all," Hermione said, her smile wider than ever.

"I've thought of that," Harry admitted with a small smile. "I wouldn't mind it if they informed me about their current status. But I imagine that they're still adapting."

"Are you certain about that?" Hermione asked skeptically.

Harry laughed softly. "I'm rarely certain about anything," he told her. "Except for this." Harry lifted her chin up and kissed her deeply on the lips. "I love you."

Hermione smiled, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Though she didn't voice the words out loud, Harry was pleased to discover Hermione's heart echo his exact sentiments.

*

Early Saturday morning, Harry made his way to Sirius's private chambers to spend a few moments with him before his two godparents left for Hogsmeade, where they would directly Apparate to a small town in the Canadian prairies, where Claire's family lived. He thought about Snape taking over as Headmaster during the weekend and cringed, privately wishing that Claire and Sirius had decided to leave the following weekend instead. And then he took the wish back. His godparents needed this time alone.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently for a response. When there wasn't an answer, he frowned, knocked again and then opened the door, wondering what was keeping Sirius from asking him to enter. When his eyes scanned the shadowy room, he gave a slight start as his eyes landed on Sirius's bed.

"Er -- Remus?"

Remus looked up from the latest edition of the Quibbler he was reading, the upper half of his body propped against pillows while his legs were stretched out along the length of the bed. The older wizard pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at his lap, and Harry noticed for the first time the small figure curled up in a fetal position, the dark head resting comfortably on Remus's lap, a slender arm slinked around his waist.

Claire was obviously sleeping, as was indicated by her slow, steady breathing and the fact that Remus was silently requesting Harry to not make any kind of noise that would startle his godmother from her nap. Remus then pointed to the same direction where Sirius's bathroom lay beyond the main sitting area. Harry nodded his thanks, gave one last look at Claire and Remus, and silently moved past the sofa and into the small hallway.

Harry found Sirius shaving in the bathroom. The older wizard rinsed his razor in the sink in front of him just as Harry entered.

"Just getting myself cleaned up before we go," Sirius told him. "It's been nearly twenty years since Claire's parents last saw me. How much do you want to bet that this won't make a difference in the least?"

"Aren't Claire's parents teachers?" asked Harry. "That's something you have in common with them. I'm sure that they'll find it somewhere in their hearts to find respect for you -- if nothing else."

Sirius snorted but didn't answer, running the razor across his jaw. "I would have used magic to do this," Sirius finally said. "It's certainly quicker, but much too difficult an art to master. Claire usually helps me, anyhow -- but as you saw when you walked in, she's unavailable at the moment."

Harry frowned. "Yeah ... about that ... Why's Remus here? Not that I'm complaining, of course," he hastened to add.

"Albus invited him over breakfast," Sirius answered. "He's technically not due for his visit for another half hour, so he's keeping us company until we depart."

After Sirius had finished shaving, they made their way from the bathroom back to the bedroom, where Remus was still scanning the Quibbler with a crooked smile on his face, as though he had come across something particularly amusing. Claire was still comatose on his lap.

Remus looked up at Sirius and nodded approvingly at his clean-shaven face.

"Think it'll impress her parents?" Sirius whispered while running his hand across his smooth chin and nodding at Claire.

Remus chuckled lightly and shook his head. Sirius gave a helpless shrug, looking down at Claire with tender eyes.

"Poor girl," he murmured to Harry. "She doesn't sleep well at night when she's feeling anxious, so it's good that she's getting that extra hour right now. She needs her rest. She'll need to be fully alert for the trip," he said and added after seeing Harry's puzzled expression, "The wider the distance, the trickier Apparation becomes. She'll need all her strength. But you already knew that," he added with a grin.

"Why is she anxious?" Harry whispered back. "I would think she'd be excited to go back -- to see all her old friends after all these weeks."

"She is," Sirius replied, motioning for him to follow as he walked across the room and sat on the sofa, which was positioned directly in front of the fireplace. "She's just worried about her parents."

"Why would she be?" Harry asked, somewhat perplexed.

Sirius glanced at Claire's sleeping form before turning back to Harry and replying. "She knows that no matter what, her parents are going to be livid about her getting back together with me. They consider me old news -- a part of Claire's past which they believe she would never want to revisit. The good news is -- your godmother doesn't care. She never really did, as you know. I was the one who was insistent on receiving the Whites' approval before marrying her."

"I hope you're not going to make that mistake twice," Harry said, and wondered if he had just overstepped his bounds. He reluctantly stood up, preparing to make his return back to the common room. "I just wanted to tell you both to have a good trip -- and -- I --"

"What is it?" asked Sirius, looking up at his godson. "Are you feeling alright?" He stood up and peered closely into his face.

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, brushing off his concern. He felt a slow blush creeping up from his neck and spreading across his cheeks. He had had an initial reason for coming here, but now, he couldn't even bring himself to voice it.

"You're not fine," Sirius said, the whisper vanishing from his voice as he began to talk in low, strong tones. "What's on your mind, son?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. How could he ask Sirius what he wanted to ask him? He had come here for advice -- and maybe even some support. But he felt more like a child now than he ever had before. And here he was, trying to approach his godfather with one of the most mature subjects he had ever been faced with.

"Son of a hippogriff," Sirius breathed, looking at him with his wide, gray eyes as realization dawned on him. "You're going to propose!"

A startled cry rent the air and before Harry knew it; his godmother had practically flown across the room and knocked him over with a strength that was uncannily like Hagrid's as she squeezed the life out of him. Sirius and Remus (the latter of whom was standing up from the bed) both chuckled while Harry struggled to stay on his feet. Claire pulled herself away, cradling Harry's face in her palms as she stared adoringly up into his face.

Harry's eyes widened. "You cut your hair! It looks great!" he exclaimed.

Claire beamed up at him. "Almost eight solid inches from the bottom -- but never mind that!" she exclaimed suddenly, immediately realizing Harry's intent to throw her off-track. "I only have one piece of advice, Harry: don't let anything get in the way of your marriage to Hermione. In fact, do everything in your power to make sure it happens. Sirius and I learned the hard way. Don't repeat our mistakes."

"We make them so you can learn from them," Sirius told Harry, placing a gentle hand on Claire's shoulder while Remus stood on her other side, smiling.

"Congratulations, Harry," Remus said kindly. "We knew you'd get there someday ... it was simply a question of time."

Harry fought the onrush of emotion that spread from head to toe, finding it almost impossible to say what was in his mind and heart. All he knew was how grateful he felt to have such a strong support system nearby; and how deeply he wished that his godparents weren't leaving this weekend.

"Do ... do you think it's a good idea?" Harry asked uncertainly, half expecting them to change their minds and tell him that he was too young, too inexperienced, or whatever else they could come up with.

"Harry, it's the best idea you've ever had," Sirius told him, grinning more broadly than ever. "If you're searching for discouragement, then you're in the wrong place. I'm sure Snape would be more than accommodating, however."

"Not now, Snuffles," Claire said reprovingly, looking up at him. He grinned back before she returned her eyes to Harry. "But he is right, sweetheart. You love Hermione. There isn't much more to it than that."

Harry smiled, feeling a rush of relief he couldn't even begin to measure.

"When's the big day?" asked Remus.

Harry swallowed. "I ... I was thinking that tomorrow might be a good day. We have a date that evening at the Golden Eagle."

"Sunday evening," Sirius mused. "We're planning to return shortly before midnight -- so we'll be here to congratulate you properly. And listen to your godmother, Harry. Don't be an ignorant prat like I was by convincing yourself that you have all the time in the world."

Over the course of half an hour, while Sirius packed the rest of his belongings, they all discussed possible wedding plans -- and what Harry and Hermione's future held in store for them. After their conversation, Claire gave both Harry and Remus a goodbye kiss on the cheek while Sirius pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, wishing him good luck (though admitting that he wouldn't need it) and clapping Remus on the shoulder in farewell.

"Do you really think it's safe for Sirius to re-introduce himself to the Whites so soon?" Harry asked Remus after his godparents had left.

"Oh, yes," Remus assured him with a knowing nod. "Claire's father is alright most of the time -- it's her mother Sirius has to worry about. But I can assure you that your godparents will be fine."

Harry nodded, feeling slightly better about the situation his godfather was putting himself in. "Well, since Hermione and I are going to be in Hogsmeade on Sunday," he reminded Remus, "maybe we could pop on by after dinner. I'm sure Hermione, providing she accepts my proposal, will want you to be one of the first to hear the official news."

"First, she's going to accept," Remus replied as he moved around the room, randomly tidying things, including making the bed with the wave of his hand. "And secondly, I would be delighted to welcome your visit."

"Excellent," Harry said. They exited the room together, Remus locking the door with his wand, and they parted ways as Remus made his way to Dumbledore's office, Harry returning to his common room.

Harry felt relieved that Sirius, Claire and Remus were extremely supportive of his intention to propose to Hermione. All he had to do now was to wait patiently for Sunday evening to arrive. If the year before was any indication, then Sunday in Hogsmeade would be -- quite possibly -- even more promising than the day he and Hermione had voiced their love to each other.

*

Sunday morning, while Hermione slept on (no doubt from staying up so late the night before to study) Harry went into his trunk and moved aside his Invisibility Cloak to take out his Firebolt. He spent a good portion of an hour flying over the grounds, trying to chase away the butterflies in his stomach. He had never felt more anxious over anything in his entire life.

You would think, Harry, that you'd feel a little bit more confident. After all, Hermione loves you and you've been talking about marriage for almost a year now.

Yes, Harry agreed with the voice in his head. There was no real reason to feel nervous. But there was always the chance that Hermione could have changed her mind. He would know, one way or another, that same evening.

After flying a bit more, and taking a quick shower, Harry ascended the stairs leading to Gryffindor tower. He gave the password to the Fat Lady and climbed through the portrait hole, straightening as he made his way to the sofa where Leah was sitting -- talking with Ron in docile tones.

Almost everywhere Harry looked, he could see groups of students either playing games to de-stress and pass away the time, or he could see that some were studying for their finals. The Creevey brothers were among the former students and even Parvati and Lavender were testing each other on Charms in a secluded corner of the common room.

Harry dropped into the armchair opposite them, hardly noticing that Ron was trying to get his attention, as his mind was preoccupied with how he was officially going to ask Hermione to marry him. He felt something hit his face, and realized that Leah had rolled up her cardigan and tossed it at him. When he looked up, Leah was holding a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror and apology.

"I ran into Snape just after breakfast," Ron repeated with a knowing grin on his face, as though he knew the exact reason why Harry's mind had drifted (and since Ron had been the first person Harry had told about the proposal, this was very possible). "He wanted you and Hermione to have this." He pulled out a small, crisp envelope which read "Mr. Head Boy." Harry could practically hear the sarcasm calling out to him from the envelope and he smiled in spite of it.

He opened the letter and scanned it, shaking his head and shrugging with finality. "Fine with me -- if that's the way he wants it."

"Wants what?" asked Ron and Leah together.

"Oh ... nothing really important," Harry said sarcastically. "At least -- it's not important to him. He just wants me to know that I'm not to bother him this weekend." He glanced at the letter and said, "Snape claims that he -- being in charge of Hogwarts for the whole weekend -- has high expectancies from both me and Hermione and he doesn't want us go to him with trivial matters that can be handled by one of us."

"That lazy git," Ron snarled. "He just doesn't want to do any of the work!"

"Yeah, well," Harry said with another shrug. "I'm surprised he waited until today to inform us of his little rule. What difference does it make when Dumbledore will be back around midnight? Anyway, where is Hermione? Is she awake yet?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "She's in a right state. Said something about her ring -- didn't quite catch what it was, though."

Leah frowned at Ron before looking at Harry. "She said that her ring was missing -- but that was about ten minutes ago. She hasn't been down since, so I'm sure that she's found it by now."

"Thanks," Harry said, and without further ado he made his way up the stairs to find Hermione. Approaching her door, he rapped softly before opening it all the way.

Hermione was sitting on her bed, her knees drawn up as she hugged them to her chest. If Harry hadn't known her as well as he did, he would not have known that the wetness in her eyes were tears of panic and confusion. She looked up as he entered and his stomach sank to his feet as a tear slid down her cheek.

"Hermione?" he asked, rushing over to her. He sat next to her, pulling her stiff body into his arms as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to return where they had come from. He rubbed her arms, kissing the top of her bushy hair. Judging from her appearance, it was clear to him that Hermione hadn't been able to locate her missing ring.

"It's gone, Harry," she said in an aching whisper. "I woke up -- and it was gone. I don't understand!" she added, hysteria taking over. "I never take it off for anything. How could it have just vanished?"

"You're sure it's not in this room?" Harry asked, knowing the answer, but trying to remain optimistic.

"I tried the Tracking Charm I placed on it ages ago," Hermione informed him, shaking her head in bewilderment. "But when I performed it ten minutes ago, there was no indication that the Ring was in this room. It's gone."

"Let's try the common room -- and if we can't find it there, it might be in the library and we'll keep looking until we do find it," Harry promised, taking her hand in his and pulling her up from the bed.

"It won't be in the common room," Hermione told him, sniffling as she rose up with him. "It's nowhere on this side of the castle."

"But --" Harry looked at her with bewilderment. "I thought you didn't know where it is?"

Hermione wiped her hair from her face, trying to regain her composure as she looked at Harry. "The Tracking Charm pointed my wand towards the North end of this room, at which point I activated the Alert-me Charm. Basically, my ring was supposed to give off a loud beeping noise in order for me to locate it. But when I performed the Charm, there was nothing to indicate that the ring was in this room."

"Then ... if the ring isn't in this room ... and your wand was pointing North ..."

"It could be anywhere in the castle between here and North Tower," Hermione finished. "But -- how did it get there, when I know I had it last night when I went to bed?"

Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We'll learn the answer to that when we find it -- and we will. We won't rest until that ring is back on your finger -- alright?"

Without waiting for a response, he led her out of the room and down the stairs, returning once more to the common room.

"Found it, Hermione?" Ron called from the sofa. Ginny, Seamus, Neville, and Dean had joined Ron and Leah.

Hermione shook her head in answer to Ron's query and Harry caught the frown on Ginny's face. Harry quickly explained and Ginny sighed sympathetically. "We'll help you look for it, Hermione. Won't we, guys?" she asked her Quidditch team. Everyone nodded readily before Ron spoke up again.

"I thought you had a hundred Charms and Jinxes protecting that ring," he said to Hermione.

"I did -- I do," Hermione quickly replied, running a shaky hand through her brown hair. "And I ... I don't think I lost it, to be honest. I -- I think it was stolen."

Ginny's eyes widened along with Leah's.

"What made you come to that conclusion, love?" Harry asked her. She hadn't said anything to him about it in her bedroom. Had she just made that assumption now? And now that he thought of it, was it only just an assumption?

"I didn't lose it," Hermione said, sounding increasingly sure of herself. She looked at Harry, pleading for him to believe her. "I went to bed with the Ring on my finger -- I'd stake my life on it."

"You don't sleepwalk, by any chance?" asked Neville timidly. "I -- I've been known to do it ... sometimes that's how I lose my stuff, too."

Hermione smiled kindly at Neville. "I've never sleepwalked in my life," she insisted. "Otherwise, I would probably have considered that first and foremost."

"If someone stole it," said Seamus in a tone of disbelief, "then that means that that person is a Gryffindor -- right, Hermione? Are you saying that a fellow Housemate took your ring?"

The others looked to Hermione, wondering if this was what she was actually trying to imply. But Hermione sighed, rubbing her temple with her forefinger as she considered the possibility. Ron sniggered and Ginny threw her attention to her brother, an indignant look in her eyes.

"What's so funny about this, Ron?"

"It's not funny that Hermione lost her ring," Ron said, appearing shocked at her snappish attitude and immediately getting defensive. "I was laughing at Seamus's ridiculous suggestion that a Gryffindor stole the ring. It could have been anyone in this school."

"No one else can get past the Fat Lady," Dean argued, clearly agreeing with Seamus. "If it was someone from another House --"

"I agree," said Ginny, shaking her head as though trying to form her own ideas as to what could have happened to Hermione's ring. "It would be incredibly difficult to get past the Fat Lady -- impossible."

Ron sniggered again, which was now beginning to infuriate Ginny. "What is so funny?"

"Because you're so eager to believe that a Gryffindor stole Hermione's ring!" Ron exclaimed. "Is it really so impossible to consider that someone from a different House sneaked past the Fat Lady and marched up to Hermione's room -- nicked her Ring -- intending to sell it for a bit of extra gold to take home?"

"Someone from a different House did this?" Ginny asked skeptically. "First of all, who would steal Hermione's ring? And second of all -- Hermione's ring has more sentimental value than anything else, so why would they want to steal it?"

Hermione and Harry exchanged significant looks. Harry didn't like where this was going at all. Then again, this argument was nothing more or less than what they had all been putting up with since they returned from Easter break six weeks ago. He privately wished that Ron and Ginny would just stop arguing and help them search for Hermione's ring.

"Gold is gold," Ron continued with a meaningful gleam in his blue eyes. "And who in this school loves gold more than anything else in the world?"

Ginny immediately froze, but luckily for her, Ron didn't notice this reaction. He was too busy exchanging a meaningful look with Dean, Seamus and Leah, who were all starting to agree with him.

"Yeah," Seamus said slowly. "Yeah ... I reckon it could be Malfoy, too. It's something he'd do -- just to make Hermione's life miserable. And who could forget about Malfoy's feelings toward anyone who is less than pureblood?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other again. What were they supposed to say? But Ginny had rounded on Seamus, her face as flaming red as her hair.

"Would you mind sticking to the facts rather than throw accusations around, expecting us to take your word for it?" she asked, her hands clenching the hem of her t-shirt.

Ron rolled his eyes, smirking along with Dean and Seamus. "The facts are in, little sister. And all fingers point to Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Ginny asked in a tone of total disbelief. Harry could see the color draining from her face now as Ron nodded quickly, hardly noticing her icy exterior. "Malfoy." Ginny's tone fell as she stated this disbelieving conclusion her brother had come to.

"You have a better candidate, I gather?" Ron asked his sister, his voice rising slightly. The Creevey brothers in the corner looked up interestedly, wondering what the Weasley siblings were arguing about now.

"I think I'm having a difficult time swallowing the idea of someone from another House entering ours," Ginny said, and Harry could sense that she was striving to stay in control of her temper. "It's like Dean said -- no one can get past the Fat Lady without the password."

"It's not nearly as difficult as one would think," Ron insisted, more loudly still. Harry knew that he was referring to their second year when he, Ron and Hermione had illegally brewed Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Ron and Harry had sneaked into the Slytherin common room, leaving Hermione behind, her potion having accidentally transformed her into a cat, complete with pointed ears and (to Myrtle's everlasting delight) a tail.

Parvati and Lavender looked up, but they didn't look away, now that Ginny and Ron were, once again, at full throttle. Apparently, this seemed far more interesting than studying for exams. Harry's eyes swept over the entire room. It seemed that everyone had dropped what they were doing just to listen.

"Where's the proof?" Ginny exploded, standing up and towering over her brother, her fists on her hips. "You just have to put the blame on the first person who comes to mind, don't you? How bloody typical!"

"Take a look around, Ginny," Ron shot back, standing up and towering over her in return. "No one is defending Malfoy -- no one. Except for you. You can ask Harry and Hermione if you want. What do you two reckon? Can you find it in your hearts to make excuses for Malfoy -- as my naïve sister seems obligated to do?"

"Well, I think I have another way of figuring out --" But Hermione was immediately cut off as Ginny stepped forward. She stared up at her brother, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice tremulous with suppressed rage.

"They may not be able to make excuses for Draco," she said in a low, venomous voice. "But I certainly can."

And without hesitating, as though she had been planning to do this from the beginning, Ginny unclipped her silver bracelet -- her Christmas gift from Draco -- and hurled it at Ron. He caught it in his fist like a Golden Snitch, staring at his sister perplexedly before glancing down at the underside of the bracelet, where Harry knew Draco had engraved the initials: GW+DM. The blood slowly drained from Ron's face -- a remarkable contrast to his usual reaction when he was either embarrassed or upset.

"You see, Ron; Draco couldn't have been stealing Hermione's ring last night," Ginny said in the same calm, satisfied whisper. "Because last night .... he was with me." And without waiting for his reaction or reply, Ginny pushed her way past her Quidditch mates and exited the common room through the portrait hole.

***

Author's Note: There you have it! Ron knows now. And I imagine you can all predict exactly how he'll react. The next update shouldn't take TOO long. Maybe I'll see you around when that update comes. Until then, later, peeps!