Harry Potter and the Carnelian Key

Two weeks later, Professor Matlock’s words from the first day of term were still rolling around in Harry’s head. ‘This course is the most important you’ll ever take, especially in light of recent events. It is crucial that you learn to protect yourselves.’ Harry raked his hands through his messy hair, making it stand up in all directions. It was noisy in the Gryffindor common room, but all Harry heard was Matlock’s voice. ... ‘crucial that you protect yourselves...in light of recent events.’ He sat alone at the edge of the circular room, slumped in a giant armchair and facing away from everyone. He had been staring at the wall, and now he closed his eyes… ‘crucial...protect yourselves...protect yourselves.’

Aside from when Professor Lupin had been at Hogwarts, the first few Defense lessons of the term had been the best classes they had ever had - in any subject. They were learning things - useful things - things that Harry knew might come in handy the next time - for he had no doubt there would be a next time - he faced Voldemort. So far they had learned how to create a protection bubble to ward off minor curses, a charm to temporarily blind an attacker, and now they were working on conjuring shackles. The lessons were very informative and Professor Matlock actually made them rather fun, but the nature of them had Harry worried. Much of what they had learned in their first four years had dealt with warding off beasts and evil creatures. But now they were learning how to defend themselves against other wizards. Harry knew that Dumbledore would never have fifth year students learning how to conjure shackles if he didn’t think they could all be in danger at any moment. These lessons left Harry wondering how soon it would be before Voldemort would come for him again, and what his evil plan would be this time. Most importantly, they left him wondering if he would be strong enough - lucky enough - to escape Voldemort’s wrath for a fifth time.

"Harry?" a voice jerked Harry’s awareness back to the common room.

"Hermione. You startled me."

"I’m sorry," she said, coming around the back of the chair facing Harry’s on the right and dropping a large stack of books onto the low table in front of them. She sat down on the edge of the chair and peered at him. "Are you all right?"

"What? Yeah, fine. Just taking a break," he said, reaching for his Defense book where it lay open on the table.

"Oh. Where’s Ron?" she asked, settling back in the chair with her Arithmancy book.

"I’m not sure," he replied. "He said he had something to do and that he’d meet us in here later." That had been all Ron said when he’d left the dormitory shortly after dinner. Now Harry glanced at his watch and realized that he’d been gone for over an hour. It hadn’t been the first time he’d disappeared lately.

"Oh," she replied with a frown. "Hmm. Oh well. What are you working on?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said, deliberately avoiding her eyes.

"That’s all you’ve been studying lately," she said, obviously trying but failing to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah, I’ve been having trouble with the conjuring," he lied. Actually, he was reading way ahead in the text, and he knew that anyone could notice this just by looking at his book when it was open. There were far more pages resting on the open front cover of his book than anyone else’s, even Hermione’s.

"Oh," was all she said, and Harry was grateful that she didn’t push the subject, although he knew immediately that she wasn’t fooled. If she had been, she would have offered to help.

They studied in silence for a while, and Harry had just realized that Ron had been gone for an hour and a half when he heard his voice. "Hey, you two." Ron came around Hermione’s far side and sank into the chair across from Harry.

"Hey," said Harry.

"Where were you off hiding at?" Hermione asked.

Ron looked tired and his hair was standing up in one spot at a funny angle, as though he’d constantly been running his hand through it. It was the look he often had during exam week.

"Nowhere," he said. "Just doing this and that."

"Oh," Hermione said, her eyes lingering for a moment on his tired face before she turned back to her homework. Harry wondered if she felt hurt, thinking that her two best friends were keeping secrets from her. He hoped that she didn’t.

"Hey, Harry," said Ron, "You think we could get in some Quidditch practice tomorrow night? I know the tryout isn’t for a while yet, but I want to be ready."

"Ron," said Hermione, with a hint of anxiety in her voice, "are you really going to try out for the team? I mean, it’s so dangerous, and you could get hurt. You’ve seen how many times Harry’s been hurt, and he doesn’t even have to deal with that Quaffle flying at him every ten seconds."

"No, just two heavy bludgers," Harry spoke up in defense of himself, "Not to mention the ground rushing towards me every time I dive for the snitch."

"Yeah, really Hermione," Ron said, "playing seeker is a lot more dangerous than playing keeper, and even Harry has never been really seriously hurt."

"No, of course not, because no one considers crashing to the ground and being knocked unconscious or having all the bones in your arm go missing serious injuries at all," she replied sarcastically.

"Hermione," Harry said, "I think you’re overreacting just a little. Both of those incidents were flukes. They had nothing to do with the game at all. Ron will be fine."

She seemed unconvinced, looking from Ron to Harry to Ron again. Finally she just sighed and turned her attention back to her Arithmancy. "Whatever."

"So, practice tomorrow?" Ron asked.

"Yeah."

* * * * *

Three days later, on Saturday, Hermione woke up early, while it was still quite dark. She dressed quickly and quietly, so that she wouldn’t wake up her roommates, and then hurried silently out of the castle. The morning was cool, as summer was rapidly fading into autumn, and she shivered as she crossed the lawn, half-running, pulling her robes tightly around her. She reached the Quidditch pitch and glanced into the air as she made her way towards the stands. ‘Good,’ she thought, ‘They’re not here yet. Maybe if I sit before they get here, they won’t see me.’ She hurried to the far end of the stands and took a seat in the front row, which was a little below where she knew they would be flying. She didn’t have to wait long. Just as the horizon was turning from bright orange to a soft pinkish-purple, she saw three figures walk onto the pitch, carrying broomsticks over their shoulders. One was also carrying a bright red Quaffle They stopped in the middle of the field, conversing, and the one with the Quaffle pointed her free hand towards the far goalposts, her arm sweeping back and forth and then in a circle. She was obviously giving instructions. They mounted their brooms and kicked off. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet circled the stadium several times on their way up, but Nigel Underwood flew straight towards the goalposts, taking his spot in front of them.

Hermione had watched Ron practice the last two nights in a row, him patrolling the goalposts on Harry’s Firebolt while Harry (on a school broom) and Fred and George tried to shoot the Quaffle past him and through the hoops. Hermione had to admit, he was really good. In two nights of practice, and about a hundred shots, the Quaffle had only made it through a hoop eight times. Ron seemed to be the ideal build for a keeper. He was tall and long-limbed, which helped to give him the extra extension he needed when the ball was almost out of reach, but also slim and wiry, which made him fast.

After they had come in the night before, Hermione had overheard Nigel Underwood, a solid-looking Gryffindor sixth year, ask Angelina and Alicia to help him practice his keeping skills first thing in the morning, and they had agreed. Hermione had decided to sneak out and watch, and see what kind of competition Ron would be up against. She knew Nigel would have an edge over Ron in this practice, since Nigel was working with the actual chasers from the team. Harry, Fred, and George were formidable enough, as it were, but none of them were really accomplished chasers like Angelina and Alicia.

As she watched, she immediately saw the difference in skill between the two girls and Harry and the twins. And Nigel was standing up to the test, knocking almost every shot away from the goalposts.

"Happy Birthday."

Hermione jumped, and whirled around. Harry was walking towards her through the stands, wearing a tired smile, arms folded across his chest as if to warm himself.

She smiled. "Hi," she said sheepishly, "and thanks."

"You’re welcome," he said, coming to stand beside her where she was leaning against the railing. "Sweet sixteen."

"Yep," she said, then, "Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing?"

"I assume you’re here to check out Ron’s competition, like me. Except Angelina asked me to come, and you’re here on your own accord." Harry nodded towards Nigel who had just dove in for an impressive save. "Were you hoping he’d be better or worse than Ron?" It wasn’t an accusation, just a question.

She stared straight ahead. "I don’t know," she said.

Harry didn’t reply, and they both watched Nigel in silence for a few minutes.

"He’s good," Harry said flatly.

"He’s slower than Ron, and he’s only opposing two chasers. Ron’s been practicing with three."

"You’ve been paying attention."

"I can count to three, if that’s what you mean," she said with a smile.

He chuckled and looked at her profile. "How many shots has Ron let slip by?"

"Eight," she said quickly, not meeting his eyes.

"Uh-huh," he said slyly, his voice raising in pitch on the ‘huh’.

Now she did look at him. "What?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing," he said innocently.

They watched in silence again for a few minutes.

"He really wants to make the team, doesn’t he?" Hermione finally asked.

"Yeah, he does."

"Who makes the decision?"

"Angelina. We all agreed that it wouldn’t really be fair to allow Fred and George and me a vote. She’s the captain and she’s impartial."

"She’s helping Nigel."

"Only because he asked her to. She’d help Ron if he asked. She’ll be fair."

Hermione looked at him. "Do you think he’ll make it?"

"I think he has as good a shot as this bloke."

Hermione hesitated. "Do you think he just wants to be on the team so that he’ll have something of his own?" she asked quietly.

Harry seemed to ponder this. "Maybe," he said and he hung his head for a moment. "But he really loves Quidditch. Maybe more than I do. It’s been a dream of his to play since he was a little kid. And it just kind of fell into my lap, you know."

Hermione nodded slowly, and after a moment, she said, "He’s a really good friend."

Harry swallowed. "I know."

"He still feels really guilty about how he treated you after your name came out of the Goblet of Fire."

"He shouldn’t. It’s forgotten."

"I know, and so does he. But I think he struggles with it because he still feels slightly jealous of you on a daily basis. And he doesn’t know how to deal with that. He feels guilty for it, like he’s betraying you somehow. He knows you don’t ask for any of the attention you get. Heck, he knows you don’t even like it," Hermione explained.

"Well, he does deserve some attention of his own," Harry admitted. "He’s only ever been in his brothers’ shadows. Even that thing with Professor Matlock on the first day of class - that was just because of Charlie. And so many people only know him as ‘Harry Potter’s best friend.’ You - you stand on your own. They know you as the girl with all the answers, smart, helpful. People know that I wouldn’t have accomplished a lot of what I have without your help." Harry paused and sighed, and he stared at the railing. "But they don’t know that about Ron. Your strengths are easy to identify. His aren’t. They don’t know him like we do. They don’t see his strength and his loyalty. They don’t realize that he’s the rock in this trio. I really think I might have lost my mind - a few times - if it hadn’t been for him."

Hermione smiled at his surge of emotion, and the honest gratefulness in his voice.

"I want him to make the team," she said firmly.

Harry looked at her and laughed. "Really?"

"Yes."

"I didn’t say all of that to make you feel guilty. Ron appreciates that you worry, trust me."

"I know he does, and I don’t intend to stop. But I really want him to make the team."

"Well, I think he’ll be thrilled to hear you say that."

* * * * *

"No peeking, now."

"Keep them closed."

"They are," Hermione said, annoyed, but smiling. "I’m not looking - oops." She stumbled a little on some loose carpeting, and Harry saw Ron tighten his grip on her arms. Ron was behind Hermione, guiding her steps through the castle, and Harry was next to them, his arms loaded with food that he had snuck from the kitchen, with Dobby’s help.

"Okay," Harry said. "We’re here - hang on." They had come to the door of the Charms classroom, and Harry pushed it open with his foot. Ron guided Hermione inside and stood her in the middle of the room.

"Open your eyes," Ron said.

"It’s pitch black," she replied, confused. "Where are we?"

"Illuminora," someone said, and the room lit up.

"SURPRISE!" shouted a dozen voices.

Hermione jumped, and then burst out laughing. "Oh, it’s wonderful!"

The room had been cleared of desks and filled with floating bubbles of every hue, fountains of colored liquid hovering in midair, and flying confetti. Against the walls were tables of food, on which Harry now deposited the burden he was carrying, and another table of presents. Standing in the midst of it all were all the fifth year Gryffindors, and Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley.

Hermione recovered from her shock, and turned to Harry and Ron.

"You two," she whispered, her voice hitching.

Ron looked horrified. "Don’t cry!"

"Yeah," Harry said quickly. "You didn’t really think we’d let your sixteenth birthday pass without a fanfare, did you?"

"Oh," she gushed, in disbelief.

"It was all Ron’s idea," Harry said, and Ron shrugged.

"Every girl needs a sweet sixteen party," he said.

"Well, it’s wonderful, Ron," Hermione said, "everyone. Thank you so much."

"Hermione, come open your presents!" exclaimed Ginny.

"Ginny, don’t be daft," Fred said, "I’m sure she wants to eat first." He was already piling a plate full of food.

Hermione was laughing, still trying to take it all in.

People were spreading out now, eating and mingling, and someone had found a wizard radio and turned it to the Enchanted Top 40 station.

"I can’t believe you got permission to do this to the classroom," Hermione said, bewildered.

"It took a lot of flat out begging," Ron said, munching on a cauldron cake.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Only when we swore under threat of eternal detentions that we would return it all to normal afterwards, did Flitwick finally give in."

"Well, I’m very glad he did," she said, smiling.

When the plates of food were considerably less full and people were tired from dancing, Hermione did open her presents. Most of the boys had gotten her things like bags of Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans, or boxes of Fizzing Whizbees. Several of the girls had gotten her books, and Parvati Patil gave her a bottle of hair-smoothing potion.

"Thanks, everyone," Hermione said sincerely when she’d finished opening all the packages.

Ron leaned over, "You’ll get ours in a bit," he whispered, referring to himself and Harry.

Hermione looked surprised. "But you two did this party -" she said, gesturing around the room.

Harry cut her off with a roll of his eyes. "Please, Hermione. You didn’t think we wouldn’t still get you presents?"

She shrugged.

After another hour, people were yawning and clearing out, leaving a few stragglers who were helping to clean up the mess.

When just Harry, Hermione, and the four Weasleys remained, Ron shooed his siblings out, saying they could finish cleaning up themselves.

"Goodnight," Hermione called after them. "Thanks!"

Ron shut the door behind them and turned back to Harry and Hermione. "Finally," he said, pulling a small wrapped package out of his robes.

"Oooh," Hermione said, excitedly. She sat down in a chair, rubbing her hands together eagerly. Then she reached out, wiggling her fingers, "Give it here," she giggled.

"Nope," he said, "Harry’s first."

Harry shrugged and pulled a small, flat package out from under a table. "Here you go," he said, handing it to her. "Happy Birthday." He and Ron pulled chairs up and Harry sat, but Ron remained standing, leaning against the back of his own chair. Hermione eagerly ripped the paper off Harry’s present.

"Oh, Harry," she breathed. "It’s perfect. I love it." In her hands she held a framed photograph of herself, Harry, and Ron. It had been taken by Colin Creevey one night last year in the Gryffindor common room. Harry remembered the night. They had been huddled at a table, trying to work out a way for Harry to breathe underwater for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry had been feeling extremely irritable, Hermione and Ron exhausted, when Colin had come up to them, eagerly offering to take their picture. Harry had sighed and Ron had told him that they were busy, but Hermione, seeing the hurt look on Colin’s face, said that they’d love to have their picture taken. They had stood in a row, Hermione in the middle, in front of a large bookcase. Just as Colin was about to snap the picture, Hermione had suddenly grabbed them both around their waists, pulling them close and tickling them hard in the ribs to make them smile. The picture had turned out great, the three of them pressed together and smiling broadly.

Hermione leaned over and hugged Harry tightly. "Thank you."

"Okay, now mine," said Ron quickly, looking as though he were about to jump out of his skin. He thrust the box at her, and she took it, giggling at his excitement. Harry was as anxious as she was to see what was inside; he had no idea what it was. He had been pestering Ron for a week, asking him what he’d gotten her, but he had firmly refused to tell, all the while acting very mysterious.

Now Hermione eagerly lifted the lid off the small box and promptly froze. The color slowly drained out of her cheeks and her hands began to tremble where she gripped the package. She slowly looked up at Ron and opened her mouth to speak, but it just fell open, soundless. Harry could see tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don’t understand," she finally managed. "How..." but she ran out of breath and her voice trailed off.

Harry looked at Ron, who seemed extremely pleased and very nervous. He had gone as red as Hermione had gone white.

"I was worried that you wouldn’t remember," he said quietly.

"What is it?" Harry finally asked, impatient.

Hermione slowly reached a shaking hand into the box and lifted the item out, holding it up for Harry to see. There, hanging from the end of her index finger, was the antique necklace from the store window in London.

Now Harry’s jaw dropped too, as he reached out to touch the gold and garnet charm. "Ron! How on earth..."

"It’s not the real one," Ron said hastily, with a drop of regret in his voice.

Hermione looked as confused as Harry felt.

"I transfigured it," Ron said sheepishly.

Hermione gaped at him.

"You what?" Harry asked, incredulous. "From what?"

Ron shrugged. "An old necklace of Ginny’s. You actually gave me the idea, Hermione. You were reading transfiguration that night after we saw it."

"Ron," Hermione said, "that is really advanced magic. I am thoroughly impressed."

"Professor McGonagall helped a little," Ron said.

"Still...." she replied, clearly in awe and very touched.

"So you like it?" Ron asked.

For a moment she just stared at him, tears threatening to spill over at any second. Then she slowly stood up, gripping the necklace in her left hand, and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close, pressing the side of her face into his shoulder. Ron smiled a little and closed his arms around her, brushing his cheek against the top of her head.

Harry smiled watching them, and almost felt like he should turn away. It was a tender and private moment, and he felt like an intruder.

After a long moment, Hermione pulled back and kissed Ron softly on the cheek. "I love it," she whispered.

He grinned, his cheek blushing further where she had kissed him. He took the necklace from her hand and motioned for her to turn around. She did, and he undid the clasp, bringing the necklace over her head. She lifted her hair with one hand and Ron fastened the clasp. Harry thought he saw him needlessly trail his fingers against the back of her neck for a split second before he brought his hands down. He took a deep, shaky breath. "There," he said. Then, as if he had just remembered Harry was there, he glanced at him, looking very embarrassed. "Let’s clean up this mess, eh?"

* * * * *

The next day, Sunday, was warm, but the breeze was laced with the scent of coming autumn, a mixture of leaves and pumpkins and far off rain all mingling together and so faint that Harry wondered if he were imagining it. It was the kind of weather that made everyone desperate to be outside, afraid that if they stayed in, they would miss the last lingering moments of summer.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were spread out on the grass near the lake, lazing in the sun and gentle wind. Nearly all of the students were outside, and the air was full of shouting and laughter.

"I can’t remember how to pronounce this charm," Hermione was saying. "Is it slumberdicate or slumberdicate?"

"I think it’s I-can’t-believe-you’re-doing-homework-right-now-dicate," Ron said in a muffled voice. He was stretched out on his back in the grass, one arm over his face to shield his eyes from the sun.

"Ron," she said, "we have a quiz on these charms tomorrow."

"Is that the sleeping charm?" Harry asked from his spot next to Ron on the grass.

"Yes."

"Well, try it on me and we’ll see which one is right."

"Harry, you know I can’t do that. Not without permission."

"I’m giving you permission."

"Permission from a teacher, you git," she said, pulling out a handful of grass and throwing it at him.

"Why do you want the sleeping charm used on you?" Ron asked lazily.

"So I won’t have to listen to you two bicker."

"There yer three are," came a voice from behind them.

Harry sat up with a yawn and looked over his shoulder, squinting to adjust his eyes to the sun. He’d been lying with his eyes closed for at least half an hour.

"Hi, Hagrid," he said, smiling.

"Nice day, eh?" Hagrid asked, clomping over to them. He was carrying a large crate in his arms.

Harry suddenly felt very nervous. He heard Hermione groan, and Ron, who had just sat up, recoiled slightly.

"What’s that, Hagrid?" Ron asked.

Hagrid sat down next to them with a loud grunt and grinned broadly. "A real treat fer class," he said, eyes gleaming.

"I bet," Ron mumbled under his breath.

"What is it, Hagrid?" Harry asked, bracing himself for the worst.

Hagrid lifted the lid off the crate with a dramatic flourish. No one moved. "Well, come on," he said, motioning them forward. "Get yer a good look."

Ron stayed where he was, shifting nervously. Hermione, who was kneeling, leaned forward slightly. Finally Harry stood, and came around to where Hagrid sat. Careful not to get too close, he peered into the crate.

In a corner of the box, a small creature lay curled up. It appeared green and smooth, and it had two short horns on its head. It’s arms and legs, which were long and skinny and ended in webbed hands and feet, were wrapped around its body protectively. It lifted its head and looked at him, and Harry jumped back in surprise. The creature was grinning at him, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth.

"What is that, Hagrid?" he asked.

"It’s a clabbert!" Hagrid replied eagerly.

"Oh, those aren’t so bad," Hermione said, relieved, taking a few steps forward on her knees and leaning over the crate.

"Cours’ not," Hagrid said, "They’re t’rrific. They warn yer when danger’s comin."

"How do they do that?" Ron asked, finally getting close enough to take a look himself.

"They have a pustule on their head that flashes red," Hermione provided, and Ron grimaced. "But he doesn’t have one," Hermione said, confused, pointing at Hagrid’s newest acquisition.

"Cuz e’s just a baby," Hagrid said, lifting the creature out and cradling it in his arms. The clabbert scrambled to wrap its arms around Hagrid’s huge neck, and it clung to him, whimpering, which seemed very strange since it was still grinning.

"Aww," Hagrid purred, rubbing the clabbert’s back affectionately.

Harry exchanged half-wary, half-amused glances with Ron and Hermione.

"Er, Hagrid?" Ron said tentatively. "Aren’t you worried that he’ll bite you with those...those teeth?"

"Nah...they don’ bite people."

"Why is he grinning like that?" Harry finally asked. It was giving him the creeps.

"’E’s not. That’s how they look."

"Nice," Ron muttered.

"Dumbledore wants yer ter raise ‘em from babies."

"Them?" Ron asked. "How many did you get?"

"Twenty."

"What do they eat?" Hermione asked, reaching out and stroking the clabbert’s skinny arm with her finger.

"Small animals. Lizards, birds, that sorta thing."

Hermione withdrew her finger. "Umm....well I can’t wait to feed one," she said with false enthusiasm.

"I think yer’ll have a lot ER fun with em. Sweet things, they are. Well," Hagrid stood up, which took some effort considering how big he was, "better take ‘im back. Not really ser’posed ter have ‘IM out. See yeh in class on Thursday!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione said their collective good-byes and waved as Hagrid headed for his cabin.

"I don’t think they’ll be so bad..." Hermione said uncertainly, settling herself back on the ground, "...except for the feeding part."

"They’re still babies though," Ron said as he flopped down on the grass. "Remember the blast-ended skrewts? Who knows how big these’ll get?"

But Harry remained standing, staring after Hagrid and thinking, with his hands shoved into his pockets. After a minute he turned to face his friends. "Why do you think Dumbledore wants twenty clabberts at Hogwarts?" he asked them.

"Why not?" Hermione shrugged.

Harry dropped next to them, kneeling and sitting back on his feet. "Didn’t you hear what Hagrid said?"

They stared at him blankly.

"They warn of impending danger," Harry said pointedly, trying to lead them through to his conclusion.

Hermione suddenly seemed to understand. "You think Dumbledore is worried...about an attack?"

"Well, don’t you think it’s a little weird?" Harry asked, feeling the composure that he’d somehow maintained for the last few months suddenly begin to melt away. "Look at everyone!" He waved his hand in front of them, indicating the many students scattered across the grounds. "Acting like everything’s perfectly normal. Meanwhile Voldemort is back! And nobody is even doing anything! Don’t they realize - he has all of his powers back! He’s not going to just go away!"

"Harry," Hermione pleaded, "please keep you voice down."

But he had opened the floodgate at last and there was no closing it. "He didn’t resurrect himself for no reason! Don’t you find it just a little strange that he hasn’t shown himself? That he didn’t start attacking straight away? He has a plan! I know it."

Ron interrupted him by reaching out and grasping his shoulder. "Harry," he said steadily. "You have to calm down." Harry glanced around. People nearby had started to stare.

Harry sighed and dropped his head into his hands. When he looked up and spoke again, it was in a quieter tone. "I’m just saying that he must be up to something."

"Well, I’m sure Dumbledore knows that," Hermione said. "Maybe that is why he wants the clabberts here. Maybe it’s part of his plan."

"Yeah, I’m sure that Dumbledore is taking steps," Ron said, "I mean, he did talk to Sirius about notifying ‘the old crowd’. I’m sure they’re not just planning to sit by and wait. They are probably making plans now, mobilizing an army or -"

"Don’t you get it?" Harry interrupted sharply. "Voldemort wants me."

They quickly fell silent.

"He’s going to try to get to me," Harry said very clearly, as if he were explaining something to a small child. "It’s just a matter of time. He’s coming up with a plan. That’s why things have been so quiet. He’s going to make me his first priority. He wants to prove to everyone that he can destroy me, that he is more powerful than Harry Potter. He said that. I’m going to be his first target." Harry paused. "There won’t be any warning."

A long silence fell upon them. Hermione was wide-eyed and Ron looked very grave.

Finally Hermione spoke. "What do you think he’s going to do?"

"I have no idea." Harry said flatly.

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked.

Harry didn’t say anything for a long moment, then, "Start taking steps - precautions."

Hermione looked terrified. "What kind of precautions?"

"I don’t know."

"Harry, I’m not sure -"

Harry cut her off. "Hermione, I’m not going to just lay down and let him take me! Not when I know he’s coming! What kind of wizard would that make me? I have to fight him." Then he hung his head and whispered, "I owe them that."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, until Ron broke the silence by quietly asking, "Owe who?"

"Cedric...my parents...everyone." He looked up. His throat suddenly felt very tight. "No one would even have to worry about Voldemort if it weren’t for me."

"Harry!" Ron said firmly, scurrying onto his knees to face him. "Do not say that. You know that is not true." Ron grabbed him by both shoulders and spoke very clearly. "Voldemort would still be Voldemort even if you didn’t exist. Hell, Harry, he would have been at his full power for the last fourteen years if you hadn’t held him off as a baby. You’ve saved people. There’s no way to know how many people."

Harry looked up and met his eyes. Ron wasn’t hearing him. "I should have let Sirius and Lupin kill Peter."

"Harry, no you shouldn’t have," Ron replied firmly. "You were right about that. Your father would not have wanted his two best friends to become murderers for that worthless piece of filth."

Harry wondered if Ron really believed everything he was saying, or if he was just trying to calm him down. "Even if he had known what would happen?" Harry asked.

Ron seemed to run out of words. He let his hands fall from Harry’s shoulders and he just stared at him. "I don’t know," he finally said.

"Harry," Hermione spoke up gently, "there really is no point in playing ‘what if’. We need to focus on where we are now, and what can be done in these circumstances."

"And what’s that?" he asked.

"I think you should talk to Sirius," Ron said suddenly. "He’s in Dumbledore’s inner circle. He’ll know what’s going on and he can give you advice."

"I think you should go straight to Dumbledore," said Hermione. Harry almost laughed as he tried to think of how many times she had said that to him.

"I don’t want to talk to Dumbledore about this yet," he said instead. "Maybe I will owl Sirius though." Talking to his godfather seemed like a logical first step to Harry.

"Is he still staying with Lupin?" Ron asked. "Because he could have some good advice too."

"Yeah, he is as far as I know."

"Well then I think you should owl them as soon as possible."

Harry nodded. "Yeah." His mouth suddenly felt very dry. He pulled his feet out from under him and laid back, bent-kneed on the grass, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. After a long silence, he dropped his hands to his sides and lifted his head slightly to look at Hermione. "So are we going to study or not?"