Prisoners of Our Minds

Death is not the worst that can happen to men.

Plato

The July before the insurrection was unseasonably warm. Every house in Britain boarded up its windows to escape the intolerable heat. An eerie quiet had settled over the countryside; no insect, bird or man made a sound under the unrelenting sun. Deep in the silent heart of an old and prestigious manor sat Draco Malfoy, at his desk and hard at work. The heavy velvet curtains in his study were drawn together to blanket the scorching brightness outside. Only a small shaft of light emanated from the tip of his slender Yew wand. The dim words on the page blurred into an indistinguishable mass; letters melted into one another rapidly, making Draco's mind spin in confusion. He shook his pounding head with a frustrated sigh. A thin trickle of sweat rolled down his neck and along his lean, pale back. He pressed his fingers into the hollows of his eyes, hoping to relieve the soreness inside. He rested for a short while before peering down once more at the book before him; the cursive font was now perfectly recognisable in the weak wand light. Draco heaved another frustrated sigh before turning back to the book, Guide to Advanced Transfiguration.

He pulled a face at the offensive title; he really hated Transfiguration, and given the choice, he would not study the tedious subject in his final years. His skills were barely mediocre as his professor pointed out constantly. But his father would hear nothing of his abandoning Transfiguration. Lucius Malfoy, head of the most eminent Wizarding family in all of Britain, valued the art of manipulating shape and form; it was a powerful art and fitting for a Malfoy to master and control. Draco, his only son and heir, must supersede his ancestors in greatness; Transfiguration was only a basic skill, to fail it was an unspeakable disgrace.

It's never enough for him, Draco thought darkly. My presence is nothing but an annoyance, my life nothing but a shadow to his will. I will never be good enough for him. He sighed and looked around his opulent bedroom. A murky vile of bundimun secretion at the edge of his desk caught his eye. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips. Ah! My beautiful bundimun, what a perfect poison you are? He reached for the vial and held it loving between his long, graceful fingers. He had laboured over the poison all year, no one knew of its existence. In the secrecy of darkness he had worked tirelessly, often neglecting sleep to guard his precious creation. Many moons waxed and waned before the poison was born, much to the pleasure of its creator. It was perfect in every way imaginable: odourless, colourless, tasteless, undetectable. Perfect.

A cold glint touched Draco's eyes as he uncorked the vial, all thoughts of Transfiguration now gone from his mind. Perhaps he would test its effectiveness on an oblivious participant. What a nasty prank that would be! His victim would be someone he hated, someone he needed to eradicate, someone like...Lucius. Draco emitted a soft chuckle and was so consumed in his thoughts that he failed to hear the door open.

"What are you grinning at stupid boy? Quickly into my study," Lucius scowled from the door. He shot one withering look at Draco before billowing out of the room like a winter's chill. Draco shivered despite the humidity and trailed after his father to the study obediently. Once they were inside the opulent study, Lucius locked the door and turned on Draco. Draco glared back defiantly and tried to ignore the loud thudding within his quivering heart.

"Take that insolent look off your face immediately or I'll make you drink that silly little cocktail you've been brewing," Lucius snarled.

Draco looked away in disappointment. How did Lucius know? Why is it he could could never hide anything from Lucius. His cold penetrating stare weakened even the strongest of men. Such were the powers of the elder Malfoy, apt master of the darkest arts.

Draco tried his best to suppress the fear rising within him. Malfoys don't display emotions when it is unwarranted, the voice of his father cut into his thoughts. Draco idly strolled from one end of the richly furnished study to the other, trying desperately to maintain his calm façade.

I wonder what I've done now, he thought worriedly. He knew only too well the monstrous nature of his father: a man quick to anger and insatiable cruel. Draco routinely fell victim to his torment, for in the house of the Malfoys torture was a favourite pastime and brutality a sport.

Draco remembered the many cruel punishments Lucius had devised and reserved especially for him over the years. The haunting images of his painful past leapt up to him at once and though he struggled, he could not banish them. The voices pervaded his mind.

"What did I tell you Draco? If you play with fire you will only get burned," Lucius snarled menacingly.

Draco watched from the floor as the imposing figure approached him, the dragon hide boots stopping just before his face. He laid whimpering where he had fallen, his bruised face pressed up against the cold marble, a gash above his eyebrow released a thin trickle of blood that steadily dripped into his eyes.

"I promise father, I won't do it again," Draco pleaded weakly.

"Shut up you imbecile!" Lucius barked. "A bastard like you deserves nothing more than the severest punishment. You will learn to fear me, boy. And you will never defy me again!" Lucius pointed his wand at his fair son. "Petrificus totalus!" he bellowed.

Draco managed a small cry before his body froze under the curse. Silent tears streamed down his soft cheeks. He watched as Lucius approached, pointing his wand at his lame body. He was paralysed, afraid, defenceless. Please help me! His mind screamed out. But no one heard his pleas, no one ever does.

"Aestuo!" Lucius hissed, a wild look of ecstasy radiated from his cruel face.

Draco felt a smouldering burn rise up through his body. Boils exploded under his skin. Tears ran like rivulets from his expressionless face and fell onto the floor, forming puddles where they landed. 'Mother! Where are you? Make him stop! Please make him stop! Mother where are you?' Draco mind cried silently, his tears bathing the floor under those immaculately kept dragon hide boots.

Lucius moved to lean against a pillar. His face had become an impenetrable mask, expressionless and unfeeling as he watched his son burn slowly from the inside.

"Merlin! Lucius what are you doing?" a voice rang out suddenly. At the corner of his eye, Draco saw his mother standing at the top of the marble stairs. Her feet pattered swiftly down the stairs and ran towards her only son, a pained expression hung on her face.

"Finite Incantatem!" she screamed before embracing her whimpering son with outstretched arms. Lucius surveyed the scene with disgust before turning away. He walked back towards his study casually.

"You monster! You barbaric, wretched animal! What is wrong with you?" she howled at his retreating figure. "You're have no soul, you're not even alive!"

But as always, Lucius turned a deaf ear to his wife...

He had lived through that encounter with his father, though he would never forget it. All wounds do heal with time, Draco thought sadly, and I have faced enough of his wrath to understand the futility of disobedience and tears. He stopped in front of Lucius' extensive library and perused the titles on the numerous shelves. Walls of illicit books lined Lucius' lair, everything that concerned the dark arts could be found along those four walls. Draco managed a wry grin before turning away. He glanced out the window and spotted the picturesque stream that flowed across the Malfoy grounds. Under the window were man-eating flytraps swaying hypnotically in the breeze. Beautiful but so deadly, Draco thought darkly, like everything else in the Manor.

"If you are quite finished having you little daydream, I have business to discuss," Lucius growled impatiently.

Draco's turned from the window, leaving the gloriously warm summer day behind him. He looked at Lucius expectantly.

"Now boy, how old are you?" Lucius barked.

"Sixteen sir."

"Then you're of age to become a Death Eater," Lucius stated simply.

Draco jumped in spite of himself. He had not expected this. A protest formed deep in his throat, but no sound came out. He looked at his father helplessly, all the while trying to think of a coherent excuse. But his mind chose to abandon him at that moment, leaving him defenceless before his calculating father.

Lucius grinned viciously. "Why do you look so shocked Draco? Your meagre contribution to our Lord's cause has shamed me in the eyes of my colleagues. You are incapable of the simplest tasks, and you're mere existence disgraces me," Lucius said with a derisive sneer. He paused to glare at Draco before waving his bejewelled hand in disdain. "And yet, despite your incompetence, our Dark Lord welcomes you to our ranks. There is much wisdom in his decisions and so I will not question his motives. Merlin knows that you do not deserve to join our noble cause. Regardless of your contributions we will be victorious. Mark my words Draco for they ring true. Our power increases day by day, our ranks are swelling as we speak; creatures from of darkness have flocked to our side. It won't be long before the Wizarding world crumbles at the feet of our mighty Dark Lord."

"Then, as you've already said, there is no need for me," Draco said coldly. "Besides, I want no part in your sycophantic pursuits."

Lucius glared at his son. "Foolish boy!" he hissed. "Do not make me choose between you and the Dark Lord. You are most unworthy in comparison. My loyalties do not prevent me from killing those who stray. Don't be stupid Draco, you don't want to oppose me."

"I'm not afraid of you," Draco replied calmly.

"But you should be," Lucius snarled. He paused and gave Draco a consider look. "This Manor will be yours one day. I have already given you the most prestigious name in the land. It was I who taught you how to wield power and execute authority. Therefore you owe me your obedience. Join us Draco and we will destroy all miscreants that have no place in our world. Malfoy will be a name all wizards respect and fear."

Draco watched his father silently. His mind was wrought with pain. He did not know what to do. You are a Malfoy, a voice inside him said. To deny your heritage is blasphemous. You are nothing without your name. Without it you live in shadows, your life will be forfeit, the voice taunted. You're a coward and you're weak. You cannot fight him. Be the good puppet and he might spare you. Concede now. Nobody expects any better of you anyway. Draco sighed. It is better to live a damned life than not live at all.

"Yes sir," Draco mumbled dejectedly.

A look of confusion crossed Lucius' cold grey eyes. He had not expected the boy to relent so quickly. "Then I shall arrange for the initiation. The rite will take place before school recommences. No doubt the Dark Lord has plans for you right away."

Lucius turned his attention away from Draco and began preparing a letter to the Dark Lord. Draco stood unmoving from the window, his fingers tracing abstract patterns on the cool glass, his eyes misting with every heartbeat.

"Boy, this meeting is over. Now get out," Lucius ordered sharply.

Draco came out of his thoughts and backed away from the window. He left Lucius' study and padded numbly down the marbled stairs. He walked slowly out onto the grounds of the Malfoy Manor and breathed in the fresh air. Above him the sunlight playfully flittered in and out of view as the clouds lazily cruised along the expansive sky. But Draco could not feel the warmth nor enjoy the beauty of the summer day. I feel so cold, he thought miserably. Sweet Merlin what have I done?

A strand of silver-blonde hair fell into his eyes as a tear threatened to trickled down his cheek. Draco angrily picked up a pebble and hurled it as far as he could make it travel. He blinked back the tear in dejected fury as the pebble vanished across the horizon. That was it then. He had signed away his freedom. He was no longer the master of anything, not even his own destiny. He was and always will be, a slave.

Lucius frowned as he looked out of his study window. He saw the figure of his son running blindly away from the Manor. Though Draco knew he was beaten, an exuberant defiance still emanating around his solitary form. It will take a while to break him. But I will break him yet, Lucius thought before moving away from the window.

*

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shouted shrilly. "How many sundaes are you planning to eat? You've had way too many. If you keep eating like that you're going to be sick!"

But she was yelling in vain. The deliriously happy Ron, who was sitting on her right with a sesame paste sundae under his nose, ignored her. He had decided to set a new record and consume every flavour Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour had to offer. Ron hadn't budged from the same spot for over four hours. His friends Hermione and Harry Potter were forced to indulge him, seeing as all ice creams were free on the half hour.

"Come on Hermione, I only have twenty-two more to go," Ron whined.

"You are never going to finish, besides you promised to come with us and get school supplies after lunch. A fine promise that was! We've been here all afternoon!" Hermione huffed, looking dangerously murderous.

"Why don't we go Hermione? Ron can catch up later," Harry offered, not looking up from his hands.

Hermione gave Harry a concerned look then turned to glare at Ron. "Alright, we're going. We'll be in Flourish & Blott's first, then we're going to Madame Malkin's to find new robes for Harry. Try to hurry will you? We'll be waiting."

Ron snorted a non-committal reply before digging into a strawberry and peanut sundae.

"Honestly." Hermione heaved a frustrated sigh before turning to walk away.

Harry followed her down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley in silence. Every few steps Hermione ventured a look at Harry. He had grown haggard over the summer and eerily silent. He would not talk to anyone about his godfather; any mention of Sirius was met with stony silence. Poor Harry, Hermione thought sadly. He really needs to talk about it.

"Hermione, will you please stop looking at me," Harry said emotionlessly.

Hermione jumped. "I wasn't," she mumbled unconvincingly.

Harry looked away, leaving Hermione with that familiar feeling of helpless and guilty.

Things had gone from bad to worse over the summer. Straight after the end of school, the Weasleys sort permission with Dumbledore to have Harry stay with them for the holidays. Dumbledore had consented under the circumstances, but the change of environment didn't help Harry.

The older Weasleys were engaged in Order of the Phoenix business which only reminded Harry of Sirius. Ginny and Ron had tried to distract him as best they could between wizard's chess and Quidditch practices. But despite their efforts, they could not stop his haunting nightmare playing repeatedly in his troubled mind. Each night Hermione would awaken to the sound of Harry's screams; at first he only called for Sirius but then gradually, he cried out for his parents as well. Sometimes when the dreams were particularly bad, he would thrash out with his bare arms grasping at the empty air around him and plead for Cedric. It was heartbreaking to see the liquid crystal tears glistening vividly on his contorted face.

When morning came, all things appeared normal. Harry would sit stonily by his bed and stare out at the empty wall before him until he felt well enough to stand. He never spoke of his nightmares and so they never pushed him to recount his grotesque visions. The only thing they could do was to sit by him each night, hoping vainly for a way to ease his agony.

Early in August, Dumbledore and the Order conducted a quiet farewell to Sirius. Harry was encouraged to attend though Hermione knew the condolences would become unbearable. She shook her head wistfully at the memory. It had been a terrible day...

Upon arrival, Tonks gave Harry a copy of Deathly Adventures: an Illustrated Guide to the Afterlife by Orpheus Styx. She stated quite confidently that Sirius must be in a better place. "He was a great wizard Harry, we'll all miss him," she said quietly. Harry nodded mutely and attempted to escape but only managed to run into Mad-Eye Moody.

"Son, it wasn't Sirius' time," he began. "It just goes to show the importance of constant vigilance! He's with your parents now I assume. They ought to be having a hearty reunion in the other realm. Reunions, can't say I've ever really cared for them but-- Harry, where are you going?" Moody called out after Harry's rapidly retreating figure.

Harry had fled as fast as he could from the blunt old wizard. The thought of Sirius with his deceased parents made him sick. Stumbling and gasping for air, Harry blundered out onto the balcony. Tears stun his eyes as he gasped for breath. He wanted to be gone from this place, gone from the company that looked upon him as a helpless victim. Hermione had been watching him from afar. She saw him nodding numbly to every condolence, watched as he desperately tried to evade the swarms of concerned adults. Her eyes followed him onto the balcony.

"You alright there Harry?" A mellow voice said gently from behind.

Hermione watched as Harry came face to face with Remus Lupin, another soul that looked as tired and as alone as he. Without a thought, Harry ran into Lupin's arms and wept. Lupin held him until he had no more tears to spare. He gently stroked the boy's hair as his racking sobs echoed through his ribs.

Hermione witnessed the exchange, but never spoke of it to Harry. She knew how hard it was for him to express his emotions. A confrontation would only push him back into self-isolation. She crept up to the balcony stealthily and tried to eavesdrop discreetly.

"It's not fair," Harry whispered angrily, rising out of Lupin's arms. He wiped away his tears quickly and looked embarrassed.

"No, it's not fair." Remus replied, placing a hand on Harry's shoulders and staring into his sad green eyes. "There is no shame in crying," he said gently. "Grief does that to us. It helps us to remember what we have had and what we have lost."

"What are you doing Hermione?" A voice crept up behind her, startling her out of thoughts.

"Eep!" she gasped and turned to the voice. A tall red haired boy greeted her with a curious stare. It was Ron.

"Where's Harry?" he asked.

"On the balcony," Hermione managed weakly as her face grew red like a tomato.

Ron pushed past her. "Harry, there you are," he said cheerily, being completely oblivious to Harry's momentary display of grief.

Hermione watched as Harry hurried wiped the tears from his eyes and straightened his glasses.

"Oh hello Lupin, I didn't see you there," Ron said a moment later. The kindly man grinned at Ron and shook his hand. "Watch out for Mundungus. He's brought some muggle communication devices with him," Ron continued. "He's been trying to sell the lot. They're insulting telegrams or what not, screams abuse at anyone who picks up the handle."

"They're telephones Ron," Hermione corrected. "No one's impressed, except maybe Fred and George." She gestured at the twins who were eagerly discussing prices with Mundungus in the corner of the room.

"I came to find Harry before Mundungus could get to him," Ron said loyally, feeling proud that he had arrived in time.

Lupin looked at the red haired boy and smiled. "That sounds wise Ron and I'm sure Harry will be safe in your hands. I'm sorry but I must leave right away. The Order needs to regroup and convene a meeting immediately." He sighed. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, the Death Eaters have left Azkaban."

Hermione gasped. Ron's face became red and blotch. "They've escaped? Again? How could they let this happen?" he demanded angrily, his voice shaking with rage.

"Well, they had help. It's a bit of a long story," Lupin said looking sour and worried. "It appears that the International Confederation of Wizards has more Voldemort sympathisers than we previously expected. Increasing pressure was placed upon Fudge to release Lucius Malfoy on the grounds that imprisonment was too severe a punishment."

"What?" Harry gasped disbelievingly. "He attacked the ministry and tried to kill us. He was in league with Voldemort and countless other Death Eaters. Fudge saw him with his own eyes in his own Ministry! How can they do this?" Hermione watched on with worry as Harry body began to convulse uncontrollably, his turning a sickly shade of white.

"Calm down Harry," Hermione whispered, placing a hand on his arm. But Harry brushed her off angrily.

Lupin sighed. "It's all legalities and such nonsense. The ICW maintains that Malfoy did not cast an unforgivable curse during the incident which shows his goodwill. It's clearly ludicrous but Malfoy has friends in high places. They argue that two months imprisonment and a hefty fine is more than adequate punishment. As for the other Death Eaters, I'm sure Malfoy had something to do with their escape. With the Dementors gone, and a lack of Aurors to guard the prisoners, escape from Azkaban is quite easy. On top of our worries, Lord Voldemort is gathering support at an incredible rate. We can't afford to waste time, we must do something quickly or else we will have failed before the war even begins."

That was nearly a month ago and things hadn't improved since. Poor Harry, Hermione thought miserably, but this time, she didn't dare steal a glance at him. It was nearing the end of August and school was about to recommence. Although Hermione looked forward to it as usual, she was also extremely frightened, not only for herself, but also for her friends. The year promised treacherous roads and unforeseeable dangers, she felt ill prepared for the challenges ahead.

They reached Flourish & Blotts with Galleons clinking noisily in their pockets. Hermione stepped into the bookstore with a satisfied grin and breathed in the familiar air of crispy new pages and musty volumes of ancient spell books. For a brief moment she felt free from her troubles. She and Harry parted ways at the entrance of Flourish & Blotts as they began perusing the shelves for their schoolbooks. She consulted her Hogwarts booklist and quickly checked off The Standard Book of Spells Grade Six, Numerology and Grammatica II and Advanced Potions. New to the curriculum were Deadly Mythological Beasts by Belleraphon Ridely, Transfiguration for Beginner Animagi by Minerva McGonagall, An Encyclopaedia of Sagmeninis by Hyacinthus Flora, A History of the Wizarding World: 1441-1858 by Pausanius Waffling-Cluck and Offensive-Defence in the Wizarding World by Franklin Churchill. Hermione looked quizzically at the last book on her list, which indicated that Defence Against the Dark Arts classes would resume. She wondered if this year's class would be more successful than the horrendous mess-ups of previous years. On second thought, she rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. I'm not holding my breath, she thought realistically.

"I didn't know you're taking Transfiguration for Beginner Animagi," Harry said suddenly from behind. His voice startled Hermione out of her thoughts.

"Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. I thought it might be interesting," Hermione said looking down at her books.

Harry nodded wordlessly and walked away. After paying for their books, Harry and Hermione hurried on to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Harry had grown over the summer, despite his poor appetite and lack of solid sleep. He was now in desperate need for a new set of school robes.

Madame Malkin was a kindly bustling witch who came out to greet them at the door. She directed Harry onto a podium so she could take his measurements. Hermione watched on as Harry raised his arms listlessly, like a dejected puppet. Madame Malkin chatted away amiably as she worked. She was, in fact, so consumed in her chatter that she failed to notice Harry staring glumly into space, not listening to a single word she was uttering. Hermione sighed again as she looked away from Harry.

As she gazed out at the busy street filled with students, her thoughts turned to Ron. In between worrying about him consuming so many sundaes and wondering when he could come and join them, a sudden realisation dawned upon her. "Oh that Ronald Weasley!" she muttered furiously before heading for the door. "Harry, I have to return to Flourish & Blotts," she called over her shoulder. "Ron hasn't collected his books yet and the store's about to shut. I'd best go and pick them up for him."

Hermione received a faint wave from Harry before she left Madame Malkin's. She retraced her steps and headed back for Flourish & Blotts, all the while hexing Ron under her breath for being a lazy senseless git. She was so consumed in her thoughts that she failed to see a shadow materialise in front of her. Hermione promptly collided with the solid mass. She caught sight of a wisp of blonde hair before she hit the ground.

"Look a mudblood in the mud," the boy drawled, his cronies giggled stupidly in the background.

Hermione wiped a splatter of mud from her face and stood up shakily. "Get lost Malfoy or so help me I'll hex you senseless."

"No you won't stupid mudblood. You're not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts. You don't want to be expelled now do you? Bootlicking, bucktoothed Granger and her precious friends would be dead without Hogwarts." Draco took a step closer menacingly. "Watch yourself Granger, the War is coming. It won't be long now."

Hermione glowered at Malfoy bravely. "I pity you Malfoy, always mimicking daddy dearest, always seeking his approval that you can't even think for yourself! You're soulless and dead, and a complete waste of my time! Now get out of my way or so help me Malfoy!"

Draco grinned at her biting words calmly. His immaculate robes billowed in the cool breeze behind him. A slender aristocratic hand held onto a pile of books with ease. "Oh contraire stupid little mudblood, I am very much alive. Unlike the senior Potters, or that mangy mutt Black," Draco leaned forward and glared at Hermione. "Between you and me, I think our precious Potter is cursed. His nearest and dearest are dying off like flies. You should be scared mudblood for your turn will come, and when it does, he won't be able to save you. How he must hate himself for being so helpless and weak in the face of death." Draco straightened and grinned sinisterly. He looked over Hermione's head at the figure standing silently behind her. "Wouldn't you agree Potter?"

Hermione gasped. She turned around in time to see the fear in Harry's eyes. Oh by the grace of Merlin. "Harry--," she began.

"We should go Hermione," Harry said quietly, trying his best to look calm. She nodded in agreement and began to guide Harry away from Draco. Crabbe and Goyle chortled stupidly as they walked by.

"Leaving so soon? Well, if you insist," Draco drawled. "Oh! I nearly forgot. When you see that carrot top Weasel, tell him that he'll need a pin to deflate himself." There was a hint of malice in Draco's voice that made Hermione stopped in mid step. She turned on the smug looking Slytherin.

"What did you do to him?" she demanded angrily.

"Oh nothing really. Let's just say I gave the greedy piglet a rather nasty cocktail." Draco pretended to ponder the ingredients, tapping a long index finger against his chin. "Something like, leech juice mixed in with an infusion of belladonna and, oh yes, a sprinkle of powdered erumpent horn."

Hermione gasped. "You didn't!"

"I assure you that I did," Draco enunciated steadily.

Harry gave Hermione a confused look. Draco smirked at the two Gryffindors triumphantly before turning to leave. He gave a regal wave of his hand as he walked away.

"Slimy, insufferable, cruel, horrible git!" Hermione spat before grabbing Harry's sleeve urgently. "We have to go."

Together they sprinted down Diagon Alley with their hearts pounding in their ears. In the distance, they could see a small gathering beginning to appear in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Seated at a table was an unrecognisable blimp that used to be Ron. He had swollen to the size of an adult elephant. The chair he had been sitting on threatened to collapse under his weight.

"HELP!" Ron screamed at the onlookers who were both laughing and gasping at the horrendous sight. Florean Fortescue came out of her shop and stared up at Ron in horror.

"What did Malfoy do to him?" Harry asked as he gaped at his best friend.

Hermione halted once she reached the gathering and turned to Harry gravely. "Malfoy gave Ron a very dangerous potion. Most of the ingredients used are highly volatile. I read about it in Most Potente Potions. The effects of leech juice and belladonna may vary from person to person," she recited. "Recorded cases have ranged from mild nausea to severe hallucination. However, in Ron's case, the effects of leech juice and belladonna may come as an aftermath to his current state. The erumpent horn is a highly volatile matter. When ingested, the ingredient causes abnormal swelling and bloating. Any sudden movement can provoke a violent reaction."

"You don't mean..." Harry asked as if afraid to know the answer.

"Yes I'm afraid he might explode!"

*

Ron could stomach many things: like fifteen sundaes at the one go, a corned beef sandwich if he were hungry enough and even a failed concoction in Snape's Potion's class if he were forced into it. But he could not stomach Malfoy's demoralising attacks. So when Malfoy called his family a bundle of freckled twigs with too many whelps and too few galleons, Ron felt compelled to smash Malfoy's smug face in. Of course, he failed to appreciate the walking fortresses that were Crabbe and Goyle who quickly overpowered him. Almost immediately, Malfoy was upon him with a flask in hand.

The malicious glint in Malfoy's eye grew brighter as Ron felt himself expand in the most unnatural manner. His stomach ballooned to the size of a beach ball, then to the size of a pregnant elephant. His legs were like small tree trunks. Soon his head could touch the gables of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. The swelling continued at an impossibly rapid rate. People began to gather around him. Everyone was laughing and pointing at Ron's distorted figure. Meanwhile Draco and his cronies had conveniently disappeared, retreating to a safe spot where they could laugh sinisterly without being caught.

"HELLLPP!!!!!!" Ron screamed out in despair. Below, a few passers-by stopped to point and stare; two elderly wizards looked up at Ron pitifully before hurrying towards the Apothecary. More people were gathering around him. Rude young witches and wizards gaped and pulled silly faces at him. Given that he was now as big as a giant, it took all of Ron's self control not to stomp on them. He looked down at the crowd below and hoped to see his parents, Ginny or even the twins among the throng of people. But Ron could not see anyone he recognised. Just as he was getting desperate, Harry and Hermione pushed through the crowd.

"Oh my goodness, Ron! Are you alright?" Hermione cried.

"Ron?" Another voice joined in immediately. "What on EARTH happened? Merlin's beard! Arthur, come and see what's happened to our son!" Ron peered down and saw the small figure of his mother standing at his feet. She had turned an odd shade of white. His father gaped up at him in shock.

"Oh hi mum, hi dad," Ron managed weakly. He felt his face growing hotter as he noticed more and more people snickering.

"GEORGE! FRED! Did you two do this?" Mrs. Weasley demanded shrilly. Her buoyant red hair flew in all directions as she narrowed in on the guilty looking twins.

"We had nothing to do with it, honest!" George cried trying to avoid having his ears pinched.

"Calm down woman! You're not listening," Fred insisted while hiding behind George.

"Unless he ate some of those Bugbear Bloater Pops and suffered the side effects," George whispered to Fred.

"Nah, he should be growling and hairy by now. He hasn't even got facial hair yet. Ron's too much of a baby. Look at his chinny chin chin, smooth as a baby's bottom."

"Am not!" Ron shouted down, splattering the twins with spit.

"ERGH! The baby's dribbling on me!" George wailed.

"Quick man. Run for cover!" Fred yelled dramatically.

"SHUT UP YOU TWO!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed. The twins recoiled in fright. "Oh my Ronnikins! Don't worry, daddy's going to get you down," Mrs. Weasley continued hysterically.

The twins snorted, choking on their laughter.

"MUM!" Ron grumbled loudly.

"RON! Listen to me," Hermione yelled. "DON'T MOVE! Some people have gone to get help. Malfoy gave you a dose of powdered erumpent horn. Whatever you do, don't move!" Ron scrunched up his oversized face. He couldn't remember the properties of erumpent horn although it sounded familiar to him. Perhaps he ajd learnt about it last year in school.

"I don't understand, erumpent horn, is that good or bad?" Ron asked. He heard Hermione heave a sigh below.

"Mr. Weasley!" a voice boomed from the crowd. Ron froze. He looked down and saw to his horror, the Hogwarts Potions Professor. Severus Snape looked venomously annoyed. In his hand was a purple solution bubbling frantically in a large glass flask. Blimey! What's he doing here? Ron wondered. Two elderly wizards came up behind Snape and waved to Ron. A weak smile crept onto the bloated boy's face.

"Listen to Severus," one elderly man called up to him. "He's going to help you."

Effortlessly, Snape levitated the solution to Ron. "Drink this," Snape ordered.

Ron looked pained and sniffed the solution gingerly. He didn't trust anything from Snape. He's probably trying to poison me, he thought. But on the other hand, he was getting uncomfortably larger, like a balloon being stretched beyond its limits.

"Go on Ron. Do as Professor Snape says," Hermione called up. Everyone was watching him.

"Alright," he said shakily. "B-but if anything should happen to me, you all saw me drink this. And it was from Snape."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Mr. Weasley, I see no need in trying to kill you. You're doing a fine job of it yourself. In a few short moments you will explode and die a gruesome, painful death. If you want to keep your viscera intact and not splattered all over Diagon Alley, then I suggest you drink that potion. NOW!"

Ron's eyes widened to the size of small moons. What was he to do but trust Snape? He didn't fancy having viscera decorating Diagon Alley. But frankly he was more worried about people seeing his teddy bear boxers blown sky high. Although thing wouldn't be so bad if they landed on Snape. Ron smirked at the thought before drinking the potion in one gulp. A strange tingling sensation washed through his body. It felt as if everything was being compressed within him, folding into neat little compartments. In a few minutes, Ron was back to the size of a slightly tall and gangly sixteen-year-old boy. The crowd clapped as his family rushed to his side. Mrs. Weasley nearly knocked the wind out of him with a tight, suffocating hug. A string of babble followed.

"Oh my Ronnikins, I had no idea! I was at the other end of Diagon Alley when these Wizards came and told me you were going to explode. I got here as quickly as I could. I was so worried! An explosion! I'll kill those twins..."

"Are you alright son? Molly let go, he can't breathe!"

"There, there Ronnikins," the twins snickered. "Excellent performance, two thumbs up. Make way for the stupendous fat lubber engorgement act! The one, the only..."

"GEORGE!" Mrs. Weasley howled before twisting his ear and dragging him after her. Ron made a quick getaway while Mrs. Weasley was occupied in punishing the twins.

"Ron, Ron are you alright? Hermione told me what Malfoy did to you. That bloody evil git, I'll hex him properly when school starts," Ginny said putting an arm around her older brother.

"No you won't Ginny, it's against school rules," Hermione sniffed indignantly. "Besides, us Gryffindors are above such underhanded tricks."

"I'm not," Ron muttered darkly. "I'd like to force feed Malfoy troll bogies, or set a herd of manticores on him, or better yet transfigure him into a tap dancing raccoon in a pink tutu. Just imagine it, Malfoy in a pink tutu. Think of the laughter. I tell you, I'll be laughing so hard milk will come out of my-"

"Well, well Mr. Weasley. How good it is to see you recover so quickly," an icy voice stretched out like tentacles for Ron's throat. Ron gulped and turned hesitantly to face his irate Potions Professor. Snape stepped closer. Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Harry took a collective step back. Ron glanced at his parents pleadingly, but they were too busy accusing the twins of evil doing to notice their plight.

"I have risked suspicion to save your hide," Snape whispered savagely. "I demand some recognition. LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!" Snape bellowed. Everyone around him jumped. The other Weasleys having noticed the sudden commotion, decided to come to Ron's aid.

"Ah Severus, thank you for helping our son. We are, ahem, greatly indebted to you," Mr. Weasley muttered with a sour look on his face. Ron felt the heat rise to his face again.

Snape looked triumphant. He crossed his arms firmly. "I want to hear it from Ronald Weasley."

Fat chance you ugly greasy git. Ron thought. Why don't you stick your head into an oven? Your hair has enough grease to cook for an army. Say thank you? I'd rather kiss a baboon's a-

"Ron?" Mr. Weasley nudged him surreptitiously. "What do you say?"

Ron felt like he had swallowed a flobberworm. "Thank you," he croaked.

"What was that mutter?"

"Thank you," Ronald grumbled again.

"Speak up!"

"Thank you," Ronald ground out, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"Now say it like you mean it," Snape said viciously.

"Severus. That's enough," Mrs. Weasley interjected.

"Well. It is clear where the boy gets his manners, or lack there of," Snape advanced on Mr. Weasley menacingly. "You should discipline your son, before someone else does. He might not come out of it intact."

Mr. Weasley did not looking the least bit perturbed at Snape's threat. From the corner of his eye, Ron caught Snape slipping his father a note. The rest of Diagon Alley was so engrossed in the hostile confrontation that they failed to notice the secret exchange between the two men. Mr. Weasley quickly pocketed the note as Snape straightened his robes.

"Oh and Ronald Weasley, one more thing," Snape said before he turned to leave. Rats, Ron thought. "Since you so readily displayed such appalling knowledge of the properties of the erumpent horn, I'm expecting a seven-foot-long parchment on ALL the uses of the ingredient throughout the Ages, that is from ancient times to the modern day. Furthermore, I'll be expecting a detailed analysis on the cures of erumpent swelling as well as the consequences of over-consumption. You will deliver the parchment to me on the first day of school. Is that clear? No exceptions are allowed. Well then, happy holidays Mr. Weasley."

Snape grinned maniacally before storming away, leaving behind a group of downtrodden Weasleys. Ron felt like someone had stomped on his head and let out a cage of pixies in his stomach.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Ron grumbled.

"We feel for you mate. It's bad enough to have to do homework over the summer, but potions, that's murder!" Fred said sincerely.

"No I think I really am going to be sick," Ron insisted. So there in the middle of Diagon Alley, Ron successfully threw up every one of Florean Fortescue's sundaes. Except something was different when they came out of Ron's stomach. To everyone's amazement, the sundaes had grown kaleidoscopic fur and short stubby legs. They skidded senselessly along the street and ran blindly into people, making several witches jump and shriek.

"Wow neat trick!" Fred said in awe as he gave chase to one of the skidding sundaes.

"The sundaes must have reacted with the belladonna and, well, mutated," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Great," Ron groaned, clutching his head balefully. "If it's not green slugs, it's furry, squeaking, rodent sundaes." But that was not to be the end of Ron's woes. The sensation of being kicked in the head increased incrementally as strange visions appeared before his eyes.

"Hey Ginny. When did you grow wings?" Ron asked weakly. "And...wh-why do you ha-have spider legs? No, stay back...Muuuummmm!" Ron shrieked as he backed away from his confused looking sister. Mrs. Weasley quickly put her arms around Ron and tried to comfort him.

"That would be the hallucinations," Hermione said. Ginny looked at her sourly but remained quiet.

"We'd best get home then. What Ron needs is a lot of rest. I'm sure all this will wear off in the morning," Mr. Weasley said. "Molly, you take the twins and Ginny back. I'll take Ron and Hermione."

"Mr. Weasley," Hermione whispered tactfully. "You forgot Harry."

"Ah yes!" Mr. Weasley said looking slightly embarrassed. "Right, Harry. You'd best come with us then."

Ron watched as an expressionless Harry joined them. His mattered dark hair framed his mournful looking face. How strange, Ron thought as he squinted at his best friend. When I look at him, I see...ghosts. I see remnants of past beings, emaciated bodies with unfathomable sadness in their eyes, clinging desperately to Harry. He can help them; he can save them. But from what? What do they have to do with Harry? Why do they need him? Ron shook his head in confusing and dismissed the sights as a side effect of the belladonna. He staggered after his father without giving his hallucinations a second thought. Then a realisation dawned upon him. He would spend the rest of the summer holidays doing a difficult and lengthy Potions assignment. Ron turned to Hermione with a pleading look.

"Hey Hermione," he began sweetly. "Seeing as I'm so ill...do you think you could help me do my Po-"

"No Ron," Hermione interrupted with a withering glare. "You're doing that Potions work by yourself," she stated firmly.

Rats, Ron thought again.