Just Plain Harry

Chapter 26 Interlude

Harry stood in the Owlery window and watched Hedwig fly away through a leaden sky. It was just a week before Valentine's Day, and he had finally decided what to give Ginny for her birthday, but his mind wasn't really on that. Instead, he imagined himself on his Firebolt, following Hedwig as she delivered his order to Hogsmeade. Since the return of the majority of the students and Hagrid's death, sneaking out of his dormitory to fly at night had become nearly impossible. Besides, Angelina's Quidditch practices were actually keeping his insomnia away. He'd have to figure out a way to thank her, because he was finally getting some sleep. He had a feeling that her secret admirer that sent her flowers daily, and that Fred insisted wasn't him, was actually Dobby.

Of course, even intense amounts of Quidditch couldn't keep away his nightmares. Since the lesson on boggarts, they'd become even more disturbing - almost always involving one or more Weasleys dead or dying, often Hermione, Sirius and Remus, too, and usually the Burrow destroyed. To Harry's extreme relief, only a few of the dreams had involved Ginny. Apparently, the memory of her appearance in his boggart experience was a talisman for his mind.

Harry let his gaze drop from the sky, but that only made him feel worse, because it immediately fell upon Remus. He was clearing the snow off of the Quidditch pitch, in preparation for the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff match later that evening. From what Harry could see, Remus almost seemed to be enjoying himself; the snow flew about, making odd shapes and weird patterns at the behest of Remus' wand. But that didn't help Harry to think anything other than that this was completely and utterly wrong. Remus was a teacher; he shouldn't be doing groundskeeper work, he should be doing what he loved to do.

On the other hand, maybe that snow wasn't flying about in fun, maybe it was frustration. There had been another attack on a Muggle house the week before, and once again, the Aurors had arrived there just in time to see a Death Eater shoot the Dark Mark into the air and Disapparate. The Muggle who lived in the house hadn't been known to Harry, but Ron had come back from a session with Dumbledore and told him that it had been a Muggle politician. Why Voldemort was interfering in Muggle politics, not even Dumbledore knew, but Ron's guess was that he was just trying to create as much chaos as he could.

Harry leaned against the window, feeling the cold from outside seep through his bones. He didn't move away - he felt he deserved it - but he did reach up to grasp Ginny's crystal pendant. Since the boggart lesson, Harry had taken to wearing it outside of his robes, for easy access. Somehow, just touching it reminded him of her...her hair, spread out over her black robes as she gazed into her crystal ball, the way she'd looked in her nightdress, the wink boggart-Ginny had given him in the cupboard, the way her hands had desperately clutched his when she had asked him to wait for her, and, most especially, the kiss she'd given him. He didn't mind the odd looks he sometimes received when people noticed the pendant, or even Draco Malfoy's taunts.

"Harry."

Harry looked up to see Hermione standing in the Owlery door. He wasn't surprised - he'd been gone much longer than necessary just to post an owl. He didn't say anything, but his eyes tracked her as she made her way over to stand next to him and look out the window. He saw her gaze fix on Remus.

"It doesn't seem right, somehow, does it?" she said.

Harry just shook his head. There were far too many ways that it was wrong for him to be able to put it into words. When he didn't answer, Hermione looked up at him sharply.

"Harry, you're not still blaming yourself, are you?" she asked, then let out an indignant sound. "You are! Harry, when are you going to learn that everything is not your fault?"

"I know it's not my fault, Hermione," he said, "but that doesn't mean that I can't blame myself."

Her nose wrinkled as she tried to understand, but she finally gave up. "That makes no sense," she said.

"I know," he said. He leaned his forehead against the window pane and watched his breath fog up the glass. He could hear the rufflings and cooings of the owls. "Hermione, you know how everyone keeps telling me that I have to let people decide for themselves if they want to be close to me or not? That I have to accept that I can't make the decisions for everybody?" He still wasn't looking at her, but he heard her make a sound in agreement. "Well, this is something that everybody is going to have to accept about me." He raised his head, and looked her straight in the eye.

She didn't even blink. "Harry, do you remember the morning after -" She broke off for a moment, and looked around as though to make sure that no one was near enough to overhear, which, since they were in the Owlery, no one was. "The morning after Snuffles escaped," she went on in a lowered voice. "Remember how happy Hagrid was, because Buckbeak had escaped, too? He didn't care that he'd never see Buckbeak again, even though they were friends, even though he loved him. All Hagrid cared about was that his friend was free."

"Yes, but...I don't get your point, Hermione," Harry said. That might have been all that Hagrid had cared about, but all Harry could think of right then was that Hagrid was dead. Did Hermione think that he shouldn't blame himself for that? Because he knew she couldn't possibly change his mind.

"My point is that Hagrid was happy," Hermione said. "He was always happy, even though his life had dealt him almost as many blows as yours has. He somehow managed to be happy, and get the most out of life, even through all that. He had a wonderful life, really, because he made himself have one. "

Harry shook his head. "I'm not Hagrid," he said. "I don't have his...his capacity for unreasonable happiness."

"You do, though, Harry," she said. "Or, at least, you did. How else did you survive all those years with the Dursleys?"

"Thirst for revenge?" Harry said, but he felt one corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

Hermione saw it. "See, Harry, you've got it - you just have to remember it. Remember that, even in the worst of times, there's always something to live for, something wonderful that could happen the very next moment. Remember that you have friends who...who love you, who would do anything for you, and who don't like seeing you blame yourself for things beyond your control."

Harry stared at her. She almost quivered in her desire to get this across to him, biting her lip in the way she did whenever she'd burst out with something emotional. He didn't know quite what to say, because he'd told himself those things many times before. Hearing them from Hermione meant a lot, but it wasn't going to change his mind that quickly. Sometimes, blaming himself was all he had.

Hermione seemed to see some of that on his face, because she smiled at him, and shook her head, as though putting their conversation behind her. "Did Ginny tell you that she had another vision?" she asked, instead.

"No, did she?" Harry said. "That's brilliant! Except..." He trailed off. Why hadn't she told him herself?

"Well, she did say that she would leave it up to me to tell you, if I wanted," Hermione said, before he could say anything else. "But I thought she wouldn't be able to hold it in, and she'd have to tell you." She bit her lip again, this time looking almost shy. Which looked so odd on Hermione, that Harry just stared at her.

"Well, what was it?" he asked, when she didn't say anything further.

Hermione turned to look out of the window again, and began speaking very quickly. "She was standing at the window in her bedroom at the Burrow, looking down at the garden. There was a wedding going on...a very small one, with just the bride and groom, and Professor Dumbledore, presiding." She stole a sidewards glance at him, then fixed her eyes back on Remus, just finishing up clearing off the Quidditch pitch. "The groom had red hair, and the bride brown."

Harry thought about that, and the more he thought, the bigger a grin spread across his face. "Hermione!" he said, folding his arms over his chest, and trying to sound indignant. "Is there something you're not telling me about you and Ron?"

Hermione lightly banged her forehead against the window pane. "That's almost word for word what Ginny said," she said, sounding like she was trying not to laugh. "You two have to remember that Penny has brown hair, and so does Brenna. For that matter, we have no idea what Charlie's up to, and who knows when this was actually happening."

"Didn't Ginny get any idea of the time?" Harry asked.

"She said it didn't feel like it was very far in the future," Hermione said. "Which just goes to show that it wasn't me and Ron. And," she stopped, took a deep breath, and began again. "I hope it wasn't."

"What?"

She turned to face him, reaching out to put a hand on one of his folded arms.

"I hope it wasn't. Because, Harry, you weren't there. When - if Ron and I ever marry, you'll be there, believe me. We wouldn't have it any other way. And if you weren't there, that could only mean..."

"Oh, Hermione," Harry said. He unfolded his arms, but he wasn't quite sure what to do. Luckily, she wasn't finished yet. She reached for his hands, gripping them tightly, and her eyes, as she locked gazes with him, were bright with unshed tears.

"Harry, I know it must seem odd to you, with Ron and me together. And I know that when I described my boggart from our third year, that I seemed more upset about Ron being dead than you. And in a way I was, but I also wasn't. I mean..." She trailed off, and Harry started to speak, to explain to her that he understood, but she wouldn't let him. "Harry, you and Ron are my best friends. I could never tell you how much you both mean to me - there's no words...I love you both so much, just differently, and I never want you to feel left out...Ron doesn't either..."

Now, she was crying, and now Harry knew what to do. He drew her into a hug, marveling at how easy it was. Maybe this was the good thing about having a girl for one of his best friends - he could do this with her, and it was okay. He knew he couldn't with Ron, even though the feelings he had for the two of them were basically the same. But he could with Hermione; he could let the emotions out.

Just then, he heard a snort of laughter at the Owlery door. He turned his head - Hermione was still crying too much to notice - and saw Dean, grinning at him.

"All right, you two, break it up," Dean said, sauntering over to them. When he came close enough to hear Hermione's quiet sobs, though, he sobered quickly. "What's wrong?"

For some reason, this just made Hermione cry even more, so Harry said, "We've been...discussing the meaning of friendship." He smiled, trying to let Dean know that everything was all right.

"Wow," Dean said, shaking his head, his grin returning. "How come Seamus has never cried on my chest like that? Not that I want him to," he added swiftly, which produced a watery gurgle from Hermione.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "Because if that's something you want, I could let him know...I'm sure he'll oblige." He started laughing at Dean's horrified face, and felt something tight in his chest relax. Hermione was right, he had friends who cared about him, and he couldn't let them down, even just by being depressed all the time.

When Dean had recovered his composure a bit, he said, "Ginny sent me to find you both. She wants you to come rescue her from Ron."

Harry couldn't help thinking that Ginny had probably just said to fetch Hermione, and Dean had added him, which, since Dean must know how he felt about Ginny, was pretty good of him.

"We'll be there in a minute," he said, indicating the still-sniffling Hermione.

Dean got the hint, smiled one more time, and left.

"Hermione, listen to me," Harry said, lifting her face from his chest so he could look into her eyes. "You're right about that vision - we have no idea what it means exactly. If you and Ron were getting married," he paused and grinned, because it was still funny to think about, "Ginny wouldn't have been in her room, she would have been down there, supporting you. Visions are tricky things, you know. So, my not being there doesn't mean anything at all."

Hermione nodded. "I know, Harry. But..."

"But nothing. And about your boggart...I understand, Hermione. I haven't told you about my new boggart yet, and I don't think I'm ready now, but suffice it to say that defeating it took thinking about Ginny. Even though the boggart itself involved you and Ron. Some things...some emotions are just different from others..." He trailed off, unable to go on.

Hermione put her hand on his arm. "I know," was all that she said.

They smiled at each other for a moment, until Harry had to break away. He turned back to the window, and saw Fang and Padfoot, playing in the snow.

"Hermione, look," he said, and watched a happy smile break over her face. They watched the two dogs frolicking for a minute, then turned as one to leave the Owlery.

When they reached the common room, they found practically all of Gryffindor gathered around something near the fire. Or so it felt, as the crowd parted, and they made their way through to the center. There, they saw Ron sitting on one of the overstuffed armchairs, leaning forward over a chessboard on a small table. On the other side of the table, George sat in another armchair, with Ginny perched on the arm.

"Well, all I can tell you is that that game would have beaten me," George was saying as they drew near. "I wouldn't have seen that coming."

"Me, neither," Ginny piped up.

"Yeah, but this is Dumbledore we're talking about," Ron said, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "Wouldn't he have seen that move coming? I'd think it would have been obvious."

George snorted, and Ginny rolled her eyes, and she noticed Harry and Hermione for the first time.

"There you are," she said. "Please explain to my idiotic brother that he's actually beaten Professor Dumbledore in chess."

"You beat Dumbledore in chess?" Hermione said, going over to Ron and smoothing down his hair, before realizing what she'd done and blushing. Ron just gazed up at her until Harry cleared his throat pointedly.

"Erm, yeah, except I think he let me win," Ron finally said, his ears almost matching his hair.

"Wow," Harry said, looking down at the chessboard. "And this is the game?"

"Ron recreated it for us," George said. "He's trying to get us to admit that we would have seen his great strategy a mile away, but both Ginny and I think that we wouldn't have. Of course, we're not Dumbledore, but I think he might not have, either."

"This is Dumbledore we're talking about here," Ron said. "If I haven't beaten him in all this time, why would I now?"

"C'mon, Ron, it had to happen sometime," Ginny said. "You're amazing at chess, you know that, and why else would he be playing with you other than to help you reach the point where you could beat him?"

"How come you never told us you were playing chess with Dumbledore?" Seamus asked. "That's a great honor, Ron. Have you been doing it since our first year?"

Ron's ears turned red again, and he looked like he didn't know what to say. They weren't supposed to tell anyone of their extra lessons, and here he was, letting all of Gryffindor know. But just as Hermione opened her mouth to say something, he burst out with, "Yes, since first year. He was really impressed by my defeat of McGonagall's giant set, of course, but he said that I had a lot to learn. Now, Harry," he added, "would you have seen this strategy coming?"

Harry made an incredulous sound. Ron's improvisation impressed him, but, honestly. "If George and Ginny wouldn't have, believe me, I wouldn't have, either," he said. He turned to the assembled crowd. "Would any of you?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Well, then," Hermione said, "I think we all should return to studying, since we can't help Ron with his chess matches."

Everyone grumbled, but the crowd slowly dispersed, until all that was left was Ron, Hermione, Harry, George and Ginny.

"Really, Ron," Hermione said. "Couldn't you have picked a more private place for this demonstration?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I just wasn't thinking," Ron said.

"I can tell. And you two." She rounded on George and Ginny. "What were you thinking?"

"Sorry, Hermione," they said in unison, quailing before her.

"At least you thought up that cover story, Ron. I think people bought it," Harry said, trying to diffuse Hermione's wrath. "So, you actually beat Dumbledore! That's great, mate."

Ron shook his head. "Yeah, but I still think he let me." His gaze returned to the chessboard, as though he could actually find the answer there.

"Ron, Dumbledore wouldn't do that," Harry said, looking around to make sure that no one was close enough to hear. "You know why he's teaching you - it isn't just for fun. And Voldemort won't just let us win. I don't think Dumbledore would, either."

Ron stared at him for a moment, then looked back down at the chessboard. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. "He wouldn't, would he? That's bloody brilliant. I'm bloody brilliant."

After that, he let Hermione drag him away into another corner to study. Ginny watched them go with an indulgent smile on her face, then started putting away her chess pieces. Harry bent to help her, finding Ron's box and trying to put away his pieces without being stabbed by pikes, or even bitten. He desperately wanted to say something to her, but didn't know if she would want it. On the other hand, she was right there, and he even knew what he wanted to say, so he decided to go for it.

"So, Hermione told me you had another vision. That's wonderful, Ginny," he said in a low voice. Nobody else was very close, but he didn't want to put any more pressure on her than was already there, by letting other people know that she was a Seer.

Ginny kept her head bent over the table, but Harry could see that she smiled, and she looked up at him through her lashes. "Yeah. I've never seen Toby so happy. I'm just glad that it was a happy vision. Oh - did Hermione tell you what it was?"

Harry put the last chess piece away, closed the box, and sat down the armchair vacated by Ron. "Yes, she did. She...she was worried about what it might mean for me, if the couple was her and Ron."

Ginny sat down in the other chair with a thump. "Oh, Hermione!" she said, shooting a glare over to the corner where Ron and Hermione were actually studying. "I've told her and told her that we don't know what that vision means."

Harry laughed, marvelling at how easy striking up a conversation had been. He should have done it weeks ago. "Me, too. I don't think she believed either one of us, though. But, Ginny," he added, leaning forward, "tell me everything. Hermione said you were up in your room - did it look different? Could you tell when this was happening?"

Ginny shook her head. "Not really, although it did feel like it was relatively soon. At least, in the next three or four years. Toby wasn't too happy with me about that, but she was so happy that I had a vision at all that she forgave me. I think I was so shocked that I'd had another, even while I was having it, that I couldn't pay attention to the details as much as I should have."

"You were shocked? Why? Miss Stuart said you're a true Seer, why would you think you'd never have another vision?"

Ginny drew her legs up so she could wrap her arms around them, and rested her chin on her knees. "I thought I'd blocked myself. And Toby's had her block for fifteen years. I was just worried..." She trailed off, her eyes looking sideways into the fire.

"Oh, Ginny," Harry said, longing to reach out to her, but completely unsure of himself. "I wish there were something I could do to help."

"Well, there isn't," she said, but she said it with a smile. Then, she uncurled herself and stood up. "I should get to work - I have a four foot long essay due in Potions next week, and I need to start it."

"Next week, and you're starting it already? Hermione's really rubbing off on you, isn't she?" Harry said, standing up himself. He didn't want to pressure her by seeming like he was forcing her to stay.

Ginny laughed, sounding happier than he'd heard her in months, then went off to join her dorm-mates at a table on the other side of the common room. Harry sat back down in his armchair and stared at the fire. That was the first normal, private conversation he and Ginny had had since Christmas. Maybe she was ready to start spending time with him again. He certainly hoped so.

"Harry, you all right, mate?"

Harry looked up to see Ron standing next to him. He smiled, and stood up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Did Hermione send you over to make sure I started studying?"

Ron shook his head. "I...she told me that she'd told you about Ginny's vision - don't say a word, Harry. We don't know if that was me and Hermione Ginny Saw, not that I'd mind - not a word, Harry. Anyway, we've never really talked about me and Hermione..." He trailed off, obviously unsure of how to proceed.

Harry definitely wanted to relieve him of having to - this whole conversation felt awkward. There were some things he and Ron just weren't supposed to discuss.

"I'm fine with it, Ron. I saw it coming before you did, remember?"

"That's right. You never explained that to me, either - you knew how she felt, and you never said anything? Some best friend you are."

Harry stared at him. Ron sounded completely bitter, but he had his head bent over the table, as though he couldn't look Harry in the eye.

"C'mon, Ron, you knew as well as I did, you just wouldn't admit it to yourself," he said, sitting back down in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. Ron was not going to make him feel guilty about this.

Ron looked up, saw his expression, and stopped trying. "Yeah, I guess I did," he said, grinning, and sitting down.

"Besides, I'm Hermione's best friend, too, you know," Harry added.

Ron's eyes traveled over to where Hermione's head, with its curls escaping from her braid, was bent over her books, then they returned to Harry. "I don't know, I think you might have been done out of that by Ginny."

Harry started to grin back, but then he remembered Hermione crying on him in the Owlery, and sobered. "No, I don't think so," he said, but when Ron looked at him questioningly, he just shook his head.

"Oh, Harry," Ron said, as though he'd just remembered something. "I asked Dumbledore today what had happened with Snape."

It's about time, Harry thought, but he didn't say anything. Snape had been back teaching the very next day, with no explanation whatsoever of his sudden absence. Before every one of Ron's sessions with Dumbledore, Harry had asked him to ask Dumbledore about it, but somehow, Ron had always conveniently forgotten to do so.

Ron lowered his voice to an almost Hermione-in-the-library whisper. "He was called to Voldemort suddenly, right before lunch that day, and he had to go. Dumbledore says there's no avoiding that summons."

If the situation had been any less dire, Harry would have laughed at the shudder that ran through Ron when he said Voldemort's name. Practice apparently hadn't made saying it any easier. He had more important things to think about, though.

"Why did Voldemort call him so suddenly?" he asked.

"Well, he said it was because he wanted some Wolfsbane Potion, since Snape's the only Death Eater that can make it," Ron said. He closed his eyes, obviously not enjoying thinking about exactly why Voldemort would need Wolfsbane Potion. "But that could have waited until later in the day, after classes, so Snape and Dumbledore think that this was a test."

Harry thought about that. "To see if Snape is really on Voldemort's side, you mean?"

"Yeah. I think it's a silly test, really. I mean, Snape went anyway, he just told Dumbledore about it beforehand. Did Voldemort really think he wouldn't?"

"Maybe...maybe it was a test to see if Snape would tell Dumbledore before he went," Harry said.

"Yeah, that makes sense, but it means that there's a spy in Hogwarts," Ron said. He gripped his head with both hands, digging his fingers into his hair. "Even with all of the precautions, there's still a spy."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. He supposed that they should have thought of that...but, really, with Mad-Eye Moody around - the real one - how had a spy become established? And who could it be?

"What does Dumbledore think?"

"He won't say, he just says that I need to think about it myself."

"Well, then, what do you think?"

"I don't know, Harry. I just don't know. Some kind of strategist I am, huh?" Ron turned away and stared into the fire.

"Ron," Harry said, but then stopped. Nothing he could say would change Ron's mind - he knew Ron's stubbornness. So instead, he lowered his voice even further and asked, "Ron, has Dumbledore said anything about Hagrid?"

That made Ron look up. "No, never," he said. "And every time I say something about him - it's inevitable, you know - the pain in his eyes...I can't explain, but it's bloody awful to see, I can tell you that, Harry."

Harry could tell on his own, if the pain in Dumbledore's eyes was anything like the pain in Ron's.

"Why did you bring that up?" Ron asked, still staring at him. "D'you think the spy had something to do with Hagrid's death, too?"

Harry shook his head. He hadn't; he'd just wanted to know that Dumbledore hadn't forgotten Hagrid. He'd not said a word about him since the memorial service, and even though Harry should have known him better, he'd wondered. He didn't know how the spy could have been involved in Hagrid's death...

"What does Hermione think?" he asked. She always had lots of theories.

"I...haven't told her yet," Ron said. He didn't meet Harry's eyes, suddenly seeming very interested in his shoes.

"Whyever not?"

"I don't want to worry her; she has enough to think about," Ron muttered. He raised his head enough to direct a long glance at Hermione, her head still bent over her books.

"Ron, Hermione loves to worry - it's what she does best," Harry said, watching his friend in bewilderment.

"Yeah, but I don't want her to have to," Ron said, still staring at Hermione. "She deserves the best, Harry, she really does, and I want to give it to her..." He trailed off, and returned his gaze to his shoe tops.

"I understand that, Ron," Harry said, "but if anyone can discover the spy in Hogwarts, it's Hermione. She wouldn't want you to try to protect her from something she needed to do."

"I know, I know. I'll tell her," Ron said. When Harry didn't say anything else, he finally raised his eyes to meet Harry's. "I will, I promise. Only, not tonight - she has too much work to do. And I just...I don't see how this happened."

Suddenly, Harry didn't want to think about the spy anymore. He knew it was important - maybe the most important thing right now - but they weren't going to solve anything with the scant information they had, and it did no good to brood. If he'd learned anything this evening, he'd learned that at least.

He stood up, and pulled Ron to his feet. "Come on, we have work to do. Dumbledore can figure out who the spy might be, but he can't do our homework for us. Remember, the O.W.L.s are coming up!"

Ron groaned and punched him in the shoulder, but stood up, looking a little more like himself, and followed him over to Hermione's corner. Hermione looked up as they came close, her anxious eyes traveling from Ron to Harry and back before she relaxed. Ron sat down with a thump, complaining bitterly the whole time he rummaged through his bag for quill and parchment about the History of Magic essay he needed to write. He was obviously going to follow Harry's lead, and not think about the bigger picture any more tonight. Hermione had several obscure Charms texts open in front of her, and, for once, she didn't look very happy about the work she was doing, either.

Harry took out his quill and some parchment, too, but he just sat and stared off into space for awhile before he started writing. He had another essay to write for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and this one was much more difficult for him than the last. "Are there any circumstances in which you would permit Aurors to perform the Unforgivable Curses, and, if so, what are they?" Harry remembered the trials held under Barty Crouch that he'd seen in Dumbledore's Pensieve his fourth year. The Death Eaters had used the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents for so long that they went mad. No one could ever be certain when a Death Eater came back to the good side, and said that he'd been under the Imperius Curse. Veritaserum didn't work, so there was just no way to tell. And then, there was Avada Kedavra. On the other hand, if the Death Eaters had weapons the Aurors didn't, how were they ever to be apprehended? And what if...what if his boggart came to pass? Forget the Aurors, Harry was half-afraid that he would perform one himself, even though he knew, with every fiber of his being, that it was wrong. Harry rubbed one hand through his hair, making it stick up even more than usual, and looked over to where Ginny sat with her dorm-mates. She wasn't looking at him, she was deeply engrossed in her Potions book, but just the sight of her clarified his thoughts a bit. He took a deep breath, put quill to parchment, and started to write.