Harry Potter and the Ring of Doom

It was a hot day in Little Whinging, but that was to be expected for the end of July. Harry Potter sat outdoors in the shade of the tool shed, simply enjoying the freedom of it being too hot to work on the lawns. While there was rain this year, it still hadn't been enough to warrant the lawn work that Uncle Vernon preferred.

Vernon had been unusually quiet this summer, after the little incident on the platform at the end of the last school year. Harry was sure his blood pressure was dangerously high, because puce seemed to be the natural colour for him. He hadn't spoken to Harry all summer, and seemed surprised to note that the chores were still getting done properly. That seemed to frost Vernon most of all - that Harry would willingly do a good job without Vernon there to oversee the work.

Any further musings on Uncle Vernon or the rest of the Dursley family were put on hold as an owl dove toward Harry and dropped an envelope into his hands. He opened it to read a letter from Albus Dumbledore:

Harry,

I would not contact you thus under normal circumstances, but I believe that your presence will be required at Hogwarts before the summer is complete. I would appreciate as rapid a response as you can manage once you receive this owl.

Remember, time may be of the essence.

Albus Dumbledore

Albus Dumbledore

Well, that was interesting, Harry thought. I guess I'd best get to Hogwarts as fast as I can. He sped down the street toward Arabella Figg's house.

He skidded to a stop before her front door, and tried to catch his breath before knocking. She opened the door before he had completely caught it, though. "Harry! What's wrong?" Still panting somewhat, he handed her the letter. After reading it, she said, "Get in here, then! You'll be wanting to use my fireplace, no doubt." He nodded gratefully.

With his breath finally enough under control to speak, he walked to her fireplace and grabbed the tin she kept her Floo powder in. "Thank you, Mrs. Figg. This strikes me as terribly important, simply based on what he didn't say. I think he knew the reaction this letter would cause." She nodded, and pointed at the fireplace. He chuckled without much humour and tossed a pinch of the powder in. "Albus Dumbledore!"

A familiar bearded face appeared in the green flames. "Ah, Harry!" he replied. "I admit that you surprise me. I expected an owl in response to mine. Since you have responded in this fashion, perhaps you can step through and speak with me in my office?"

"How do I do that? Just step in, now that we have the connection? Or do I need to toss more powder in and say where you are?"

"Since we already have a connection through the network, it will be no problem for you to use that to transport yourself here." He frowned. "You will not be the first student here, I warn you. Bear that in mind when you step through."

"Okay, Professor," Harry replied with puzzlement evident in voice and face. "Stepping through..." He felt the familiar lurch and found himself in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. He also found himself facing Draco Malfoy.

"Potter," he snarled, making the single word his entire sentence.

"Malfoy," Harry replied coolly. "What brings you here during the summer? Father making another bid for running the school? Oh, I forgot, he's..."

"Dead," Draco said simply. "As is my mother. Voldemort got them."

Harry was so stunned that he actually sat down, not thinking whether or not there was a chair underneath him, and it was only Dumbledore's quick thinking that kept Harry from falling to the ground by moving one under him. Taking a breath and a deep swallow, Harry stammered, "I'm...I'm sorry, Draco. We may not..."

"Save your pity, Potter. We're not likely to become chums from this, so don't try anything."

"Damn you, Malfoy! I can offer condolences without feeling pity! I..." Harry stopped and threw his hands up in the air, as if warding off his own anger. "Enough." He turned back to Dumbledore. "Why did you want to see me, or talk to me, or whatever?"

"We have a rather distressing situation arising, Harry, that I have the most disturbing feeling is going to involve you, whether or not you wish to be involved. Both of you come with me to the library. We have others to meet there."

They walked in silence to the library, and were met by several other teachers, and one of Harry's fellow Gryffindors - Hermione Granger. She looked up and flashed Harry her trademark smile, which meant that if he hadn't been looking directly at her, he'd have missed it. Her hair fell over her right eye in a loose strand or two, and he was suddenly surprised to find himself noticing that she was actually rather pretty.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked, surprised. "You act as if you saw, oh, I don't know, a veela or something for just a moment."

"Nothing. Just an odd thought running through my head."

"Must've been lonely in there, Potter," Draco laughed maliciously. Harry surprised everyone, including himself, by turning and backhanding Draco across the face. "You just earned yourself a world of hurt, Potter. I'm gonna..."

"Do nothing, Mr. Malfoy," drawled Professor Snape. "We are in a library, and are involved in a delicate study operation. If you two wish to act like hooligans, you can do so off Hogwarts property. If you are here to help, then find someone to explain the situation, and be quiet unless you have something to add."

"Agreed, Professor Snape," added Minerva MacGonnigal. "Why Mr. Potter is here is not quite within my understanding, but if he wishes to help, rather than brawl like a common Muggle, his assistance will be greatly appreciated." She cast Harry a look so cold that it was only his anger being so hot that kept him from freezing to the spot.

Harry quietly stomped over to Hermione, who had returned to her books. By sheer force of will, he kept from snapping at her. "What's got everyone so worried?" he asked.

"Apparently Professor Trelawney had a Visitation," she replied, snorting her opinion of Trelawney's talents. "I heard Professor Dumbledore say that three Prophecies in sixteen years was quite amazing. This most recent one disturbs him, though, for reasons he can't put his fingers on." She frowned. "At least, that's what he says." She looked at him again. "What were you thinking before? I've never seen you look that way before, and I couldn't tell what you were looking at."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"When you came into the library. You looked past me and - well, it was an odd look." Her puzzled frown returned. "What caused it?" Harry thought back, and blushed, which caused her to raise an eyebrow. "Is this going to be one of those things I'd rather not hear?" she asked in mock disgust.

He was chuckling. "I don't know. I'd like to tell you, but I'm not good at saying things like that the right way, and I'm not sure which would sound worse - sounding like Ron trying to give a compliment, or sounding like me the way I was around Cho last year."

"Why?" she asked, taking her right hand and pulling the loose strands over her right ear. Harry found that adorable for some reason, and turned pink. "Is it me?" she asked incredulously.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, Hermione, but I've never thought of you as pretty before, and I suddenly noticed you're a girl," he stammered.

Her face got the oddly serious look it did when she was trying desperately not to laugh, and she succeeded, although a small snort escaped. "I believe I understand what you're saying, Harry, and I appreciate it. Thank you." She smiled again, and the smile lingered for a moment longer.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, then bit back the bark of laughter he'd almost released. "No. If I say that, everyone will think Ron showed up, too." Hermione's eyebrows rose in bemused silence.

"That likely to get a slap, eh, Mister Potter?" she chuckled.

He nodded. "If I ever figure out how to say it without earning the punch in the stomach I'd get, I'll tell you what I was thinking." He shook his head. If I'm finding one of my best friends pretty, then I don't want to think about how I'm going to see the rest of the female student body this year. Cold showers, anyone? he laughed to himself.

Dumbledore came over. "Harry, I'd like you to listen to this, and see if any comprehension is sparked." He put a bowl on the table, and when Harry saw the fluid in it, he realized that it was apparently the Pensieve. Sybil Trelawney's form rose from the silvery surface and intoned in the harsh hoarse voice of Prophecy:

"THE DARK LORD DESIRES THAT WHICH THE DARK LORD MADE...FOUR MUST TAKE WHAT FOUR HAVE BROUGHT, LEST THE DARK LORD DEFEAT THE DARK LORD AND PLUNGE THE WORLD TO DARKNESS...MINERVA'S MAID, TIAMAT'S SON, BURROW BORN, HIRSUTE ONE...THESE FOUR, NO MORE RETURN THE DARK LORD'S DESIRE TO THE FIRE..."

Her form sank slowly into the silver again, and Harry looked up at Sybil Trelawney, sitting a distance away. She was buried deep within a book, as if to hide from everyone else. He looked up to Albus Dumbledore. "That sounds to me as if Voldemort's gone barmy. He desires what he made? Four must take what four have brought, or else he'll defeat himself? Isn't that what we want? Voldemort's defeat?"

"I agree, it makes no sense," the headmaster answered. "Currently, we have a...disagreement as to what the descriptions of the four mean. The only one that makes any sense to any of us is the last one, and even there, we are in disagreement as to whom it refers to."

Hermione spoke up. "Current assumptions are that it's either Hagrid or Professor Dumbledore himself. Hirsute fits either of them quite well." At Harry's confused look, she sighed. "Honestly, Harry, don't you and Ron ever read anything? Hirsute means 'bearded', or 'shaggy'. I'm not sure that shaggy describes the Headmaster, but you must admit it describes our friend Hagrid."

Harry snorted. "And then some. I wonder what he looks like when he doesn't comb his hair?" He ran a hand through his own unruly head of hair. "Like I should talk," he added with a laugh.

They looked back to the books. "I just wish I could remember where I've heard the name Tiamat before," Hermione scowled. "It's as if it's continually peeking around the corners of my mind, trying to hide."

"You must admit, Hermione, that with everything you read, it's got a lot to hide behind," Harry said with a smile, which quickly changed to a mock-scowl. "Why does that sound in my head like I just insulted you?"

"Because you're using your head for something other than to hold your glasses up, Harry," she replied. "Really, I understand what you meant, and I know you meant it as a compliment." She gave a long, serious look that was partially spoiled by the twinkle in her eyes. "At least, that's how I'm choosing to hear it, Harry. I'd appreciate it if you didn't disabuse me of the notion."

He laughed quietly. "For once, I'll quit while I'm ahead."

She was about to respond when Dobby ran into the room and straight to Albus Dumbledore. Neither of them could hear what was said, but Albus stood with some concern on his face. "We may have the beginning of our answer. St. Mungo's contacted the Ministry with some vital information, and since Arthur Weasley and I have a passing acquaintance, he was chosen to deliver the message. Apparently, four children appeared in Diagon Alley and are currently recuperating from massive injuries in St. Mungo's. One of them bears an item that apparently radiates considerable power, and will not release this item to anyone at St. Mungo's. I need to speak with these children." Harry looked up in alarm at the mention of Mr. Weasley's name. "You need not worry, Harry. Apparently Arthur was quite insistent that Dobby tell me that these are children that he has never seen before, and who strike him as rather odd."

Harry relaxed visibly. The thought that Ron could have been one of the injured children...he shuddered at the thought. "Me too, Harry," Hermione whispered.

Albus Dumbledore headed for the door, but stopped and turned around. "Harry, Hermione - would you care to come to St. Mungo's with me? Again the feeling that you may be important to the solution of this riddle strikes me." He looked toward Draco, but upon finding him deep in conversation with Professor Snape, apparently chose not to ask him along.