The Proud Man's Contumely

Chapter Eleven: When Sorrows Come They Come Not Single Spies

Mrs. Weasley woke them quite early the next day, popping in and out all morning in her usual imminent-departure induced frenzy, depositing the wash and reminding them to pack this or that. Harry and Ron loaded their trunks in near silence, always narrowly missing each others wistful glances.

Harry had trouble focusing on the task at hand. He desperately wanted to talk about what Snape had said the evening before. It bothered him far more than he thought it might. It should have been a relief shouldn't it? Snape didn't hate him after all. But Snape hating him (and him hating Snape) made things so simple. It was something he'd always taken for granted. Sure, Harry no longer had to worry about potential sabotage or Snape betraying him to the enemy. But still, now Harry could no longer comprehend the man's behaviour toward him. When you cancelled out that element, it just didn't make sense. This uncertainty Harry found to be even more unnerving than the thought that Snape's abuse was motivated my dislike. Besides, Harry was so comfortable not trusting the skulking, greasy Potions Master. (When in doubt, blame Snape.) Now Harry felt an obnoxious compulsion to look deeper, to try and understand the intolerable git.

As close as he now felt to Remus, Harry didn't feel this was the kind of thing he could share with him. After all, Remus had, by his passivity, contributed to the conflict between Snape, Sirius, and his father. There was also a chance his guardian might confront Snape. And Harry certainly didn't want that to happen. Occlumency lessons would only become even more hellish.

What Harry needed was someone who would not judge or lecture him. What Harry needed was a best friend. Harry looked sheepishly over at Ron whose back was turned, adjusting the contents of his trunk. This wasn't, after all, information that could endanger him in any way...and besides, Harry dearly missed Ron. However, Ron seemed to have finally accepted his and Harry's estrangement, and it didn't seem right to Harry to launch into his doubts and theories as if nothing was different between them. Perhaps, when they were settled on the train, Harry would try to break the ice.

An hour before they were to be on the platform, Harry and Ron hauled their trunks downstairs. Though neither of them spoke, Harry thought he could tell that Ron was just as excited as he was to finally be allowed to set foot outside of Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley had a spot of breakfast waiting for them, but Harry still had to grab Archimedes, having been unable to handle his trunk and his new pet's cage both at once. Telling Ron he'd meet him in the kitchen, Harry bounded back up the stairs, taking them two at a time until he topped the last flight and swung himself by the banister to turn into his room. In doing so he almost collided with Remus who was standing at Harry's bedroom door as though he meant to knock.

"Harry," he said sunnily. "There you are. I was just looking for you."

"I was on my way to breakfast," Harry explained, eager to get to it. "I've just come to fetch Archimedes."

"Ah," Remus said, placing a hand on the small of Harry's back to lead him back down the stairs. "Don't worry. I'll be bringing your things separately, and I promise not to forget him." Harry was a little apprehensive. The last time he'd left his things behind he'd never seen them again.

"Our things aren't going on the train?" Harry asked.

"Well, yours aren't," Remus explained.

"Am I not going on the train?" Harry asked, growing confused.

"Oh yes, you will, of course. But we're hoping to keep up the pretence that you are not. At least until we get you there and on your way," Remus said, pausing on the final landing. There he took in hand a bundle he'd had tucked under his arm which Harry had not previously noticed. "You'll be wearing this on the way to the platform," he said, handing the neatly folded square of silvery fabric to Harry. "...It was Sirius'. He'd left it to me, because at the time he knew you already had your father's. However, since that one has been lost, I'm sure Sirius would rather this come to you," he said solemnly.

Harry took the invisibility cloak from him and it unfolded in his hand. Though the fabric was, of course, so sheer and delicate it seemed spun from the very air itself, the garment weighed unusually heavy in Harry's hand. He watched it slide through his fingers like liquid silver, but it's beauty was not Harry's concern.

Why hadn't it occurred to him before? Of course his father's cloak had been destroyed with the rest of his belongings. Harry's stomach gave a lurch as he realized his photo album must have been lost as well. The only things he had to remember his parents by were gone forever. And all Harry had been concerned about was his Firebolt. Guilt curdled in the pit of Harry's gut.

"I want you to keep this on until you are seated and the train gets going, alright?" Remus asked, waking Harry from these thoughts. Harry nodded mutely, casting his eyes back down at the cloak. Remus lay a hand on his shoulder and nodded, then disappeared to continue his preparations.

Harry shuffled to the kitchen, too morose to join in the other's excited chatter. Mrs. Weasley set a plate before him, but Harry ended up only pushing his food around it, having no appetite now, even for Mrs. Weasley's cooking. When it was time to set out, the students were corralled into the anteroom where they shuffled anxiously flanked by Tonks and Mrs. Weasley while Remus stepped outside to be sure the coast was clear.

"Alright," he said, ducking back in. "We're ready. The ministry has a car waiting for us a block up. Harry, under your cloak please." Harry complied, pulling it tightly around him and then slipping to the end of the queue to stand by Ron. "No one is to talk to Harry or acknowledge his presence, understood? Harry, the same goes for you to the others, no talking."

"That shouldn't be hard," Harry heard Ron mumble under his breath beside him, still looking at the empty space at the front of the room where Harry had disappeared under the cloak. "We're to carry on as usual then?" Harry's heart sank even lower. Ron must have been taking his distance far worse than he had thought. It was now apparent that he hadn't accepted the situation at all, but had only become too bitter about it to try and remedy it any longer. Harry studied him from behind the shelter of his cloak, having the freedom to do so without necessity of tact or pretence. Ron looked, well, angry. His features formed the slightest of scowls, and the restlessness Harry had guessed to be anticipation he now recognized to be the result of discontent.

"Ready?" Remus called, hand on the door knob. "Right. Let's go."

Harry might have thought he'd have felt liberated, strolling down the street after so many long days locked within the murky confines of Grimmauld Place. But the air was unusually chill for the time of year, harsh and uninviting. Cold wind blasted him as if determined to strip the cloak from him, and the sunlight was too stark and intense for his unaccustomed eyes.

The car was indeed waiting for them, and Harry was the first one in. Remus opened the door for him under the pretence of depositing Pigwidgeon in the back seat while the others fussed with stowing their luggage in the trunk. Ron scooted in next, but when his legs bumped into Harry's, he inched back away from him unnecessarily far, as if Harry was something caustic to the touch.

Only Remus and Tonks actually accompanied them to the station, leaving Mrs. Weasley waving on the sidewalk. The girls chattered the whole way, but Ron only sat and smiled on cue whenever Hermione turned to him. Harry was rather glad he was forbidden to fraternize. He'd be afraid of what he might say. The ride was short, but Harry stewed the whole time, growing more irritated by Ron's attitude toward the situation the longer he thought about it. Wasn't Harry entitled to some time to himself after all that had happened? Did Ron expect him to put off any of his many, important lessons just to chat with him about bludgers and dungbombs? So Harry didn't share everything with Ron anymore. So he didn't spend every spare minute with him. Could Ron not understand how stressful the last weeks had been for Harry? Harry mulled, but tried to keep his indignance to a minimum. After all, he hadn't been fair to Ron lately, and it had been intentional. He'd just have to try and explain this to him is all.

When they reached the platform everyone said their goodbyes, ignoring Harry of course. He didn't think this would bother him. But as he looked at Remus, noting the kind crinkles at his eyes as he smiled at Ginny, the ones he'd come especially to delight in, he couldn't quite bear the thought of leaving this man he'd come to be so close to without some sort of farewell, despite that he would likely be seeing him in only a few days. Though he knew he wasn't supposed to, Harry slipped over to Remus and reached out to squeeze, firmly and affectionately, the hand hanging at Remus' side. Remus gave the slightest startled gasp, but otherwise did an admirable job of hiding his surprise and, no doubt, his disapproval.

"Goodbye, Remus," Harry said, tip-toeing to whisper softly right into Remus ear so no one else might hear, "I'll see you soon." Remus swallowed hard and smiled at Hermione.

"Take care," he said warmly in her direction, but Harry knew Remus was speaking to him.

As soon as they boarded, Ginny was dragged off by a gaggle of giggling friends and would not be seen again for quite some time. Harry followed Ron and Hermione down the corridors, narrowly missing collision with several students bounding up and down the train who, of course, couldn't give him room to pass as they, of course, didn't know he was even there. Hermione finally chose a compartment near the end of the train, and Harry was relieved to duck inside.

"Finally," Harry muttered, ready to be free of the cloak.

"Shh. Not yet. Not until we leave the station," Hermione reminded him quietly through the side of her mouth as she stowed her things in the overhead compartment. Harry sighed, none too quietly, and plopped into a seat. Hermione took a seat across from him, and Ron the one beside her. He scooted in close and tried to take her hand , but Hermione blushed and cast a slightly embarrassed glance toward where she guessed Harry to be sitting. "Ron" she whispered, carefully pulling her hand back into her own lap. Ron looked wounded by the rejection and cast his own, grumpy glance in Harry's direction. He crossed his arms and looked out the window while Hermione adjusted her robes and pretended not to notice his mood. The exchange rather worried Harry for some reason, and he gave Ron a sympathetic look. One he wished his friend could see.

Several people popped by. Dean and Seamus, Parvati, Ernie Macmillan, actually almost every member of DA with the exception of Cho and the traitorous Marietta. They all gave the same greeting of, "Hey Ron. Hey Hermione. Hey..." then searched the compartment, noting but not commenting on Harry's 'absence' before looking to Hermione (who looked so uncharacteristically nervous Harry thought she might give them away.) But she successfully shooed them off before any questions could be asked. Harry couldn't tell if their expressions exuded relief or disquiet.

The warning whistle finally sounded, and moments later Luna Lovegood appeared looking, as usual, as though sedated. She first drifted all the way passed the compartment. But before they could even utter a sigh of relief she reappeared, back-pedalling so it looked as though she were on a conveyor belt. Her wide, unblinking eyes were prone on Hermione, who bit her lip anxiously.

"Yes. It is you," Luna said in a sing-song voice, apparently answering her own unspoken question as she slid open the door and entered.

"Oh. Hello, Luna," Hermione said politely. But Luna didn't seem to hear her. She was rotating like an item on a turnstile in a window shop display, searching the cabin.

"Harry isn't here," she said, stating the 'obvious'.

"Oh! Um...You know, I haven't seen him," Hermione stuttered nervously. "I suppose he's running late," she lied. Just then the train gave a groan and started moving.

"Hmm," Luna said, "he's missed the train. How unfortunate," she added, teetering as the train swayed, almost sitting right on top of Harry. Hermione gasped and thrust out a hand to seize Luna by her robes and right her as Harry shrank to the corner of his seat. When the threat had passed, Luna looked down at Hermione's hand still clutching her robes and raised her eyebrows at her.

"Right," Hermione said, smoothing them. "My. It looks as though he has missed the train."

"I got your owl," Luna said now as though Hermione had just mentioned it. Hermione grew wide-eyed and quickly scanned Harry's side of the compartment, biting her lips and subtly shaking her head at Luna. Luna, however, continued undaunted.

"But I don't know how we can continue without Harry. Who will teach us? Books are, of course, wonderful things," she said with true Ravenclaw rapture at their mention. "But have you actually worked any of the spells? I'm apprehensive personally."

"Luna," Hermione said loudly, "The train's moving. Don't you think, perhaps, you should get settled into your own carriage?" she hinted with tact only Hermione could muster in a situation like this.

"Oh, I had thought of sitting with Cho. She's a bit lonely now you know, all that mess with Marietta. They don't get on well now at all. But Cho is rather too silly for a Ravenclaw if you ask me. And there's so much room here. Yes. I think I'll sit with you," she said as though she had been invited, bending to once more practically sit in Harry's lap.

"No offence, Luna," Ron cut with lack of tact only he could muster. "But there's a reason there's so much room." Luna froze mid-squat and looked at Ron as though she couldn't possibly comprehend what that reason was. Hermione scowled at Ron but did nothing to quiet him.

"We were wanting a bit of privacy. You know, just me and Hermione." Playing along, Hermione reached over and twined her fingers in Ron's, giving Luna an apologetic smile. Ron threw Hermione a quick, sideways glance as if to say 'Oh, now you want to hold my hand.'

Luna looked from Ron to Hermione to their clasped hands and comprehension dawned. A very wide smile drifted across her face, and she straightened and grinned goofily at them for a moment, head tilted like an inquiring cocker spaniel.

"How charming," she said. "And here I thought, from what Padma's been hearing from Parvati all these years, that Hermione would be with Harry." Harry raised an eyebrow from behind his cloak and looked at Hermione. Ron's brow furrowed and he gave her a demanding look. Hermione herself looked as though she wanted to crawl under her seat. "Yes. You'd be much better suited for him than Cho. Though, personally, I don't understand what all the fuss is about. He's famous and everything, but well, you know.

"But you two do make a nice couple as well," she went on. "The unlikely ones are always the most endearing. Which reminds me. Did you know the Queen is secretly seeing a part-yeti? They rendezvous somewhere in Belgium. Someone caught the most darling pictures. Father's running the story in next month's issue," Luna informed them, tilting her head to the other side now. Ron glared at her, and Harry noticed he was clutching Hermione's hand almost painfully tight.

"I'll not spoil it though. The story that is. But I'll make sure you get a copy, Hermione. Well. Goodbye," she said and drifted off, still smiling dreamily, sliding the door to behind her. As soon as she was out of sight Harry ripped off his cloak.

"She got your owl?" Harry demanded before Ron could set in. Hermione was very flustered and looked from Ron's hard expression to Harry's and back again, unsure what to say to either. Ron released her hand as if dropping an oozing bubotuber pod.

"Hermione," Harry scolded, "Dumbledore said there were to be no more DA meetings." Ron then turned his sour expression on Harry.

"Yes. Well, I know," Hermione said, nose scrunched contritely. "But we were doing so well. And now that V-Voldemort is back. I thought it wouldn't hurt-"

"But Dumbledore's forbidden it," Harry insisted.

"Like you're one to talk," Ron interjected. "It isn't like something being against the rules has ever stopped you before." Harry looked at Ron, upset but trying not to become angry.

"But this is different," he said.

"Why? Because it isn't you breaking the rules this time?"

"We aren't sneaking about behind Umbridge anymore," Harry argued shortly. "Because Voldemort's back, we need to listen to Dumbledore. I'm sure he has a very good reason for not wanting us to hold DA meetings anymore."

"So we aren't allowed to defend ourselves, is that it? You'll do that for us I suppose?"

Harry bit his tongue and Ron glared. Hermione looked thoroughly guilty. This was the kind of lecture she usually gave Harry, not the other way around.

"Listen," Harry said finally. "I can't stop you. Just don't expect me to help, okay?"

They sat in silence for a long time as the open country streamed passed the window . As the day wore on they had a few visitors, the first accompanied by Ginny ("Oh there you are, Harry!" Wink) who stopped for a short while and after which almost fully half the occupants of the train felt compelled to pass by the compartment, ogling them through the glass, as if to confirm the gossip for themselves.

The witch with the candy trolley came by in the early afternoon and Hermione generously sprang for them all Pumpkin Juice, Cauldron Cakes, and Chocolate Frogs. Harry, who had skipped breakfast, devoured his the instant Hermione set them in his hands, thanking her profusely and so loosening the tension between them considerably. The two chatted idly for the next few hours, with a handful of terse contributions from Ron.

The dark came early as the gloomy clouds moved in to choke the last hour of light from the setting sun. Rain drizzled down in a sporadic, uneven rhythm against their window. Ron was looking much less sour, and even almost smiled at Harry when he asked if he might swipe Ron's last, neglected Chocolate Frog, uttering a decidedly non-hostile 'Naw, I've already two of her' when Harry offered him Matilda Munkshank's card from within it. The lights came up and Hermione pulled a book from the overhead.

"That reminds me," Harry said. "I'm to get a book from you. 'The Vampire's Companion' or something. Remus wanted me to read it." Hermione blushed.

"It's in my trunk," she confessed. "I'll get it for you when we arrive...So, how are the lessons coming along?" Hermione asked tentatively. "Or can you say?" she added quickly. Heretofore they had only talked about innocuous things like the ridiculousness of the Quibbler (despite it's usefulness the previous year) and the coming year's course study. But Harry knew she had been dying to venture into the this topic for hours now, and to tell the truth, he'd been waiting hopefully for it.

"Not too bad actually," he told her. "Remus is teaching me loads of interesting stuff...Like, did you know banshees only mate once in their entire lifetime?"

"Must be why they're always in a foul mood," Ron quipped. Everyone gave an amused snort. "What about Occlumency? You and Snape haven't killed each other yet I see," Ron said, but almost as though he regretted the fact. Whether because it meant he still had to put with Snape or with Harry, Harry couldn't quite tell.

"Yeah. That's probably just because I've only seen him a couple of times," Harry said, relieved they were on the subject of the Potions Master. "He's just come back last night."

"Come back from where?" Ron asked as though he couldn't care less and was only being conversational. Actually, Harry was pretty curious about that himself.

"Not sure," he admitted. "To meet with the Death Eaters I suppose."

"Hmm," Ron replied perfunctorily.

"I think he had a bad time of it. That or he'd been storing up his nastiness for when he got back," Harry grumbled. "He was in an awful mood. But. Well, it wasn't all just insults," he said, trying to work his way toward Snape's confession. "I don't know. He said some pretty...confusing things. About what he thinks of me." Hermione looked intrigued. But Ron woke from his window gazing and rolled his eyes at Harry.

"About you?" Harry nodded. "It's always about you isn't it?" Ron grumbled under his breath. Harry was a bit hurt by that, but wasn't given a chance to respond.

"Said some things to upset you did he?" Ron asked. That was the invitation Harry had been waiting for all day, but by Ron's tone he wasn't sure he should answer. But Ron looked to be waiting for his response.

"Er...yeah. It bothered me quite a bit actually." Hermione was begging with her eyes for him to elaborate. Ron snorted.

"And I suppose now you want to talk about it?" he said tartly. Harry pouted his lip at him in distress.

"Well-" he began.

"You wanna tell me all about it so I can slap you on the back and tell you Snape's a git and not to worry about it, is that it?" Ron said snippily. Harry didn't answer, just set his jaw and scowled at Ron. Hermione looked anxious.

"Now you want me to be your friend?" Ron demanded, growing louder with every word and sitting forward in his seat. "What about the last few weeks? You didn't need me then did you?"

"Ron-" Harry started crossly.

"Well what if I needed you? Did you think about that? Oh, but that's different I suppose. I'm not important like you. I'm not 'Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived To Be Too Good For His Friends'!" Harry wondered just how long Ron had been waiting to deliver that line, and how many times he had rehearsed it.

"Ron, you don't understand," Harry argued, trying to keep his voice even.

"Oh I think I understand just fine. All I ever hear is 'Harry this' and 'Harry that'. Everyone is always so concerned about Harry...Even my own girlfriend," he spat. Hermione looked extremely troubled.

"Now, Ron," she half chided, half whined, but was ignored.

"...So I'm sure you're used to everyone falling all over themselves to listen to your little problems. Well, not me. Not anymore. Real friends make time for each other." Harry was really angry now despite himself.

"Little Problems?" he shouted. "You think having a bloodthirsty madman, intent on killing me, in my head is a little problem? You think being expected to save the whole bloody world from him is a LITTLE PROBLEM!?" Ron rose to his feet and so did Harry.

"Well, I might not, but I really don't know what your problems are anymore, as you've ignored me for the last three weeks!"

"I'm trying to tell you now, you prat!" Harry yelled, his face was only inches from Ron's. "I was trying to protect you!"

"Oh. I see. Your secrets are just too big and important for invisible ickle Ronnie to handle, eh?" Harry balled his fists, Ron reached for his wand.

"Ron! Harry!" Hermione shouted at them finally, trying to get between them. But she had barely risen from her seat when the lights flickered and all three of them were knocked from their feet. With the squealing of brakes their only warning, they were thrown to the front of the compartment, pressed painfully into bottom of the seats. The train shuddered and the lights went out completely. Bags and bobbles rained down on them from the overhead. Harry groped in the darkness to find a hold on something, anything, to steady himself as the shifting force of the halting train tossed them about like rag dolls.

Finally, with a thump and a last high-pitched squeak of the brakes, the train was completely stopped. Harry struggled to sit up amid the things strewn about the carriage floor. The door had been knocked open and beyond it Harry could hear grunts and moans from the other occupants, but otherwise there was no sound other than the slap of rain on the glass.

"Ron! Hermione! Are you okay?" Harry asked, standing shakily. He heard a groan somewhere to his right and stooped to help Ron to his feet.

"My wand," Ron said, panicked. "I've lost it. I can't see anything." To his left he heard Hermione whisper a spell and the tip of her own wand ignited with a meagre light. She held it above her head to better illuminate the compartment, and Harry could see her wary face quite clearly. There was a gash over her temple oozing blood that, in the blue glow of her wand looked black and was running quickly down her face.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Harry muttered, lifting his hand to dab the trickling stuff with his shirt sleeve, but was distracted. Just then a flash, as if from a bolt of green lightening, flickered outside. Harry spun around and quickly scaled the debris to reach the window.

The Dark Mark hovered menacingly over a copse of trees not twenty feet from the train. Harry stared at the ominous signal, mouth agape, and staggered back from the window. He stumbled on Hermione's book bag and would have fallen had not Ron caught his arm and righted him, afterward patting him supportively on the shoulder. Hermione clung to Ron, wand still aloft, and the two of them looked almost like corpses in the mixture of blue and green light. A slow chorus of wails and gasps swelled from other parts of the carriage as the others caught sight of the dreaded omen.

"Harry...is it?" Hermione asked, unwilling to approach the window to see for herself. Ron was wide-eyed and silent. Harry only swallowed and nodded. No one seemed to want to move. Suddenly the wails and desperate weeping from down the corridor were punctuated by a sharper, more immediate expression of fear as a shrill scream rent the air. Reflexively Harry grabbed his wand and made for the door to see what was the matter. But he found his question answered before he even reached the threshold.

The air grew suddenly chill, as though he'd been plunged into icy water, and the pale green glow from the mark was slowly consumed by an almost material darkness.

"Dementors!" he shouted to Ron and Hermione, immediately vaulting himself out of the door. But he had only taken a few steps when pandemonium erupted in the narrow corridor. Frantic children spilled from their compartments to escape their windows and the sinister sign beyond them, only to stumble across a small army of dementors which was pouring into the carriage. Screams erupted on every side of him, and Harry spun about, unsure what to do or where to begin. The dementors were sweeping about, excited to frenzy by the sheer terror that hovered thick in the air. They scurried here and there, unsure, perhaps, which scrambling child looked the most enticing. Harry swished his wand in no particular direction, as it didn't matter really, the dementors were everywhere.

"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, the only happy thought he required was to remedy this catastrophe. A silver stag erupted from his wand and passed right through the crowd of students, chasing away the darkness as it charged toward the closest dementor. It was stooped over a small first year girl, frozen in her terror as the thing bent to deliver it's deadly kiss, but when the stag approached it instantly dropped her and fled, taking with it two more dementors in it path. But there were others down the opposite end of the passage, and more coming in all the time...more in other cars. Harry began to panic. How on earth would he drive them all away before someone got hurt?

Just as these desperate thoughts took hold of him, Harry heard Hermione utter the saving spell from somewhere behind him. Her shimmering otter gambolled down the walkway, evacuating three more dementors.

"Go!" she cried, turning to direct the creature toward a fourth dementor trying to slip into a compartment at the other end of the carriage. Harry didn't need to be told twice. He fought his way through the press of frightened students toward other parts of the train. Throwing open the door to the adjoining car, wand raised and ready, he only narrowly avoided being trampled by a dementor that was trying to escape the large, shimmering swan flapping and nipping at its heels. Thunderstruck, Harry looked up to see Cho, clutching her wand and looking more fierce and determined than he ever though her soft, gentle features would allow. She was back to back with Terry Boot who was at that moment producing a shiny eagle of his own. Harry was momentarily paralysed by the pride he felt at that sight. He, Harry, had taught them this, and it may very well be saving lives.

"We've got this carriage, Harry!" Terry called to him when he spied Harry standing in the passage. "Go see to the others." Harry nodded, possessed of a new sense of hope and determination. He fought his way all the way up the train, finding DA members throughout, even those who hadn't quite mastered the spell when last he'd seen them attempt it, leaping into action. They gave him nods and thumbs up and ushered him further on. Harry cast here and there, once narrowly saving Justin Finch-Fletchley as a dementor crept up on him as he sent his patronus in the opposite direction to flush out a small group of its companions. But other than that, there was little for Harry to do. Dumbledore's Army rose to the challenge brilliantly. His army rose to the challenge, and Harry almost wished Snape was there just so he could point to his classmates and say, smugly, that he might not be a master of Occlumency, but when it came to more practical defence, he obviously was no novice.

Harry worked his way back down the train, checking in with DA members as he went, though most were now simply consoling scared youngsters.

"Through there, Harry," Lee informed him urgently from where he knelt stroking the back of a crying second year boy. "I think I saw one slip into the next carriage." Harry nodded and went to investigate. When he passed through into the car's corridor he became immediately apprehensive. The car was practically deserted and the silence there was not of a dementor's making. As he crept through it, Harry thought he could hear muffled crying in the last compartment, and he bounded down the corridor toward it.

Harry slid back the door and at first thought he had been mistaken and that the compartment was empty, but his eyes finally came to rest on a huddled figure in the shadowy corner. Draco Malfoy was curled in the floor hugging his folded legs to his chest, his face buried in his knees.

"Malfoy?"

Malfoy's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes at Harry, clearly put out that Harry had seen him in his present state.

"Why don't you just go the hell away, Potter?" he said, voice too weary to carry its usual venom, and swiped furiously at his tear soaked eyes.

"The dementor!" Harry demanded urgently, "Where's it gone?"

"Dementor? What dementor?" Draco asked, looking suddenly fearful and drawing himself quickly to his feet. Harry looked at him as though he was daft.

"The dementor that's roaming this bloody carriage, you prat!" Harry wanted to say. Why on earth else would Malfoy be so upset? Before the question could pass his lips, however, an agonized scream carried from a nearby carriage, causing Harry's breath to freeze in his chest.

Harry recognized it, even though he'd never actually heard it before. His heart hammering, Harry forgot all about Malfoy and dashed toward the source of the scream. But as quickly as he knew he must be running, it felt as though he were moving in slow motion. It seemed like the air had congealed and Harry couldn't fight his way through it quickly enough, couldn't breath it in.

Finally, Harry reached his own carriage. A group of people was gathered outside his, Ron, and Hermione's compartment, all simply standing and staring mutely through the open door. They seemed to sense Harry's arrival and those closest to him turned and gave him distressed, pitying looks. When he approached they parted for him, silently, and allowed him to pass. In his heart Harry already knew exactly what he would see when he reached the door, but nothing could have prepared him for the actual shock of it.

Hermione knelt in the floor, wailing loudly and rocking back and forth, a still, sprawled figure cradled in her arms. Harry swallowed hard and, as if by some volition other than his own, moved closer to look at Ron's face.

He was pale as death itself, and his head was hanging back over Hermione's arm, his eyes half-lidded and rolled back in his head, his mouth hanging slack. He was completely motionless except for the small, quick, automatic intake of breath that sounded like tiny gasps and caused him to appear as though he were twitching mildly. Harry couldn't do anything but stare.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione wailed when she caught sight of him in the doorway. Harry had never seen her so devastated. She moaned and clutched at Ron's jumper as if she simply couldn't hold him to her tight enough. Slowly, Harry's shock bleed away and he began trembling violently.

"...Ron?" he whispered, as though hoping against hope his friend might hear him and wake from his stupor. "Ron!" he repeated, diving to his knees beside them, seizing Ron's shirt front in both his fists and shaking him firmly. "RON!!"

Ron's head only bobbed and lolled to the side, saliva pouring from the corner of his mouth. "Harry!" Hermione gasped at him, wide-eyed and horrified, laying one hand restrainingly on Harry's forearm and with the other reclaiming their unconscious friend. Harry released Ron and sat back on his feet, unable to tear his eyes from Ron's blank face.

"I-I," Hermione hiccupped. "I o-only turned for a moment!" Slowly, Harry turned his gaze to her, amazed that she was able to even speak, her features were so constricted by anguish. "H-he'd lost his wand...I s-should have been more careful. I just. I only turned for a moment!" she sobbed.

As he watched her smoothing back Ron's hair from his face, her tears falling on Ron's cheeks, Harry went numb...He was only vaguely aware that he was rising to his feet, that he was stumbling backwards out of the compartment and into the crown outside it. They closed in around him and Harry slowly turned to look at them. On all sides there were faces, barely visible in the dim light. Weeping faces, frightened faces, sad, sympathetic faces...all turned to him...all waiting, it seemed, for what he would do next.

The scene lost all semblance of reality. This wasn't real...This wasn't real. This was a nightmare. This...this was Hell.

Harry had to leave, he had to get away from these dour visages, had to get away from the sound of Hermione's crying. He plunged clumsily through the gathering and into the open corridor. He couldn't breath. The walls were shrinking in around him. Harry rushed for the exit as though his very life depended on it and forced open the door. He stumbled and fell from the step onto the wet, though still painfully hard, ground below. His knees ached where he had landed on them...but he could not even find the will to rise to his feet.

How was it the open air still felt so close? Other than that quandary Harry's mind was blank. It simply no longer functioned. He glanced up and fixed his gaze on the fading Mark, still hanging like a luminous, pale green wisp of cloud overhead. Slowly...it dimmed, and blinked from view entirely. Harry's blood seemed to freeze in his veins, and somewhere far off he heard a woman screaming, pleading...but it wasn't Hermione.

A pale, withered face drifted into Harry's line of vision. It was shadowed by an immense black hood, but Harry could still distinguish the perfect O formed by its cracked, white lips. In Harry's head, his mother began to scream louder...someone gave a high-pitched cackle of a laugh. Harry still held his wand, but couldn't seem to find the strength to lift it.

'So this was the last thing Ron ever saw,' he thought to himself as cold hands took hold of either side of his face.

"Expect...ex-expecto...," he mumbled half-heartedly. But it was no use. He knew it. And at that moment, Harry accepted it. Even if he could utter the words the spell would fail.

Harry had no happy thoughts.