Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

By Moon Weasley

Chapter Fourteen:

Detention

The minutes seemed to drag on forever but finally the Potions class came to an end. Unsurprisingly the detentions Professor Delacour so unfairly had awarded Harry and Ron at the beginning of class had done nothing to brighten Harry's already sullen mood. As a direct result of his grumpiness the assigned Curling Potion he'd half-heartedly been trying to brew had gone horribly wrong and subsequently he'd lost Gryffindor five points. Losing a few points Harry could live with; suffering through a highly embarrassing reprimand from Fleur that had left the Slytherins practically in stitches however he could do without.

So when the bell finally rang to end his suffering, Harry's frame of mind was understandably not at its best. And it certainly didn't improve much when Professor Delacour held him and Ron back after class to give them instructions concerning their detention. Dragging his feet up to the teacher's desk Harry distinctly made out Malfoy leading the other Slytherin fifth years in a very shrill and out of tune version of "Potter you rotter" as they trudged down the corridor. But at that point Malfoy's poor attempt at winding him up didn't bother him in the slightest. His day was already ruined anyway.

Facing Fleur was not pleasant. She looked so stern and serious that even Ron's customary lake-sized pools of drool was reduced to an absolute minimum. Apparently the Veela charm weakened considerably when she was angry because at this point Harry privately thought Fleur looked downright troll-like. In fact it was a complete mystery to him how Ron and the other boys found anything even remotely charming about this French chick. Personally he wouldn't even touch her with a ten foot broomstick if his life depended on it, that's how appalling he found her.

But as soon as Fleur had finished giving them their instructions, she lost the sternness and sent them on their way with a dazzling smile that instantly made Harry profusely regret all previous thoughts about her. Not totally immune to Veela charm after all, Potter? Guess you're human after all, he thought sheepishly. A quick glance at Ron however was all Harry needed to conclude that some people definitely had a weaker resistance than others. Ron's chin was practically dripping with saliva!

Unsurprisingly Hermione was waiting for them outside the classroom wearing a huge frown, disappointment and disapproval radiating from her every body part. Ron looked to be steeling himself for a verbal lashing (Harry noticed that he'd wiped his chin dry) but for once she didn't say anything. Instead she remained silent all the way towards Gryffindor tower, a familiar wrinkle clearly visible on her forehead informing them that she was currently pondering intensely about something or the other.

For different reasons all three studiously avoided talking about the flying cauldron-incident that had been the source to the boys' detention.

Like many times before in his life Ron Weasley was confused. Though this wasn't an unfamiliar feeling as such he still didn't like it much. Confusion was in many ways like corned beef, he concluded. It was something he was served quite often, but that had never changed the fact that he found it downright gut churning. Damn his mother for never realizing that it was George and not him that loved that piece of junk. He could understand her confusing Fred and George, everyone did that. But honestly, he was bollocking nothing like George for crying out loud!

It was a bit embarrassing realizing that he was able to sidetrack his own thoughts, but by now Ron was used to his silent rants. In a way it helped him keep sort of sane, and considering that Hermione frequently pointed out that he was one of the more unstructured and insane people she'd ever met, Ron dreaded to think what he'd be like if he didn't perform this pseudo-psychology shit on himself.

But all sidetracking aside, it was really the cauldron-thing just before Potions that was mostly occupying Ron's thoughts as they trudge the familiar path towards Gryffindor Tower, dodging trick steps and turning corners practically on autopilot. Ron had a most peculiar feeling that he somehow had something to do with that, although he wasn't really sure how. But something inside him had more or less snapped when Malfoy started throwing those really bellow the belt comments about Hermione and Ginny. There was no way that slimy twat was getting away with rude insults like that directed at his girls. He'd felt an anger such as he'd never experienced build up inside and if it hadn't been for Hermione physically restraining him, Ron was pretty sure Malfoy would be nothing but a pile of unrecognisable bones by now.

He swore silently, knowing that he'd once again missed out on a perfectly good opportunity to cripple that piece of scum once and for all. Damn Hermione and her stupid Prefect badge! Unable as he'd been to launch himself fist first at the leering Slytherin, Ron had felt another strange yet not unfamiliar feeling start to build up from within. It seemed to grow in intensity with his anger, and just like that time in Care of Magical Creatures Ron had felt a warm feeling rolling down his wand arm. The next thing he knew Fleur's impressively sized pewter cauldron had been taking the scenic route through the air and landed just where Ron thought it looked the best: Perfectly jammed on top of Draco Malfoy's disgustingly sleek hairdo.

It could just be a coincident, Ron thought in an attempt to calm his beating heart. After all this hadn't been exactly like last time. He hadn't envisaged it as clearly as he had with the Erumpent, nor had he thought of a particular spell or charm that would help him before it happened. So in all likelihood the two incidents were not connected.

Yeah, Ron thought determinedly, it's probably just one of those freaky unexplainable things that happened at a Wizard's school. After all it wasn't as if he was special or anything; you know had a special gift or ability. Ron snorted loudly causing Harry and Hermione to cast him identical curious looks that he pointedly ignored. Of course not, he was Ron Weasley and if there was one thing Ron Weasley most definitely wasn't then it was special...

The long walk back to Gryffindor Tower was completed in silence. In fact not a word (not counting Ron's snort) was uttered until they'd reached the portrait hole. There Hermione suddenly came to a halt.

"I'm off to the library for a couple of hours," she informed them casually and turned to walk away adjusting her book bag as she did so.

Ron gave her a quizzical stare. "I thought you said you'd already finished all your homework and assignments for this week. Missing the sweet smell of dusty shelves and old parchment already are you?" He gave her a wry smile and nudged her gently in the ribs. She awarded him with a sarcastic smile but didn't take his bait.

"Something along those lines, yes. See you guys later, good luck with your detention." And with that she was gone.

"She's up to something," Ron said to Harry turning towards the portrait hole again. "Frilly frock."

The portrait swung open and they climbed through. "Bloody silly password by the way," Ron commented with a scowl and Harry nodded in agreement. "You should think Parvati was the new Prefect with passwords like that. Wonder what Hermione was thinking when she came up with that one."

"Beats me," Harry said tiredly and flopped down in the nearest chair. Ron was quick to follow his example.

"It's probably because she's partly mental. I mean take just now. She went running off without telling us why, but I know that look on her face. She's discovered something or the other, I'm sure of it. I really hate it when she goes all intellectual on us. Bet you she'll be back within the hour wearing a triumphant I-figured-out-something-incredibly-complicated-and-important-look plastered all over her face."

Ron pretended to look sulky but Harry detected a little admiration in his words. Ron didn't show it much, but Harry knew he was very proud of Hermione's great mind and achievements although he would rather miss meals for a week than willingly admit to such a thing.

"Yeah, poor little Ronnikins," Harry mocked good-naturedly, "only equipped with such a normal and boring brain by comparison. It's a wonder she likes you so much..."

"What?!" exclaimed Ron incredulously sending an unsuspecting Crookshanks sailing from his lap. The half-kneazle had developed a rather strange fascination for him lately, much to his amusement and Hermione's annoyance.

Mentally whipping himself Harry realized he'd said more than he'd intended and was ready to pound himself in the head (but didn't as his headache was bad enough as it was). He'd made a sacred promise to Hermione not to tell Ron anything whatsoever about her secret feelings for him and knowing the damage she could cause with a wand there was absolutely no way he was going back on his word. Damn Harry thought desperately. What on earth should he tell Ron in order to salvage this terrible slip of the tongue?

"What did you say?"

Ron's ears were now complementing his hair beautifully and his voice appeared to have gone up an octave.

"What do you mean she likes me so much?" Ron looked at Harry with a hopeful and almost pleading look in his eyes. Harry knew he possessed the power to make Ron the happiest boy in Hogwarts if he told him the truth, but how could he betray his promise to Hermione?

Perhaps if he made Ron swear never to let on that he'd blabbed? Considering this for a nanosecond Harry soon came to the conclusion that it would never work. Ron wasn't exactly known for his tact and his fiery impulses would soon expose his little betrayal. And Hermione would at the very least skin him alive or even resort to something far more gruesome if she ever found out. No, Harry definitely couldn't do that.

"Well," Harry began hoping he sounded properly nonchalant as he picked up an old and battered copy of Which Broomstick? He began flipping through it aimlessly. "The amount of time she spends with us surely suggests that she likes us, don't you think? Brilliant minds or not, there must be something about us that she finds praiseworthy, right? It doesn't make sense for her to hang around otherwise."

As he spoke the small hope that had been lit in Ron's eyes quickly died down. Harry cursed inwardly, making a note to himself to talk to Hermione at first possible opportunity. Ron had too low an opinion of himself as it was, and Harry secretly suspected that the reason why he never said something about his feelings was that he didn't consider himself good enough for Hermione.

How wrong he is, Harry thought with a sigh. But how was he going to make Ron see that? That would indeed be a most difficult task, and not something he was prepared to go into tonight.

True to Ron's prediction Hermione returned half an hour later with her bag full to bursting with heavy books and her arms overflowing with parchments. She did indeed look rather secretive and Harry was starting to think that Ron was right about her being on the verge of another big discovery. But apparently she wasn't ready to let them know anything about it quite yet.

She scurried past them without even stopping to say hello and barricaded herself in the farthest corner with the countless books she'd checked out of the library hiding her effectively form their view. She didn't even look up from her fascinating reading material when the twins came scampering down the stairs with a frenzied Lee Jordan at their heels. Lee had clearly been misfortunate enough to devoured one of the many inventive pastries the fearsome duo had cooked up, because he'd sprouted a couple of large turquoise wings that flapped uncontrollably as he chased them around the room.

The incident caused instant chaos as the wings knocked over everything in sight. Hermione however stayed calmly in her seat and didn't even jump to her feet to flash her prefect badge in Fred and George's faces as might be expected. That alone was enough to convince both boys that she was on to something important. But by then it was time for them to leave for their detention.

* *

Wearing identical looks of gloom, Ron and Harry slowly dragged their feet along the darkly lit corridor leading down to the dungeons. Neither spoke much seeing as three to four hours of manual labour involving cauldrons, sticky potions ingredients and Muggle cleaning equipment wasn't exactly what they'd considered the cheeriest of prospects.

They arrived precisely (for a change) to find Professor Delacour sitting behind the desk in the dungeon grading essays. Apparently some of her anger for the mayhem they'd (unintentionally) caused earlier had passed and she even managed a short smile when they entered the room.

"Ah, zer you are," she said and laid down her quill. "Promptly on zime too I see, I like zat in a perzon." Ron and Harry didn't know what to say to this, and so they just shrugged.

"'Arry and Ron, you are both fine young men," Fleur started and Ron's ears instantly reddened (drool had already began forming at the mouth). "But zat doesn't mean zat you can start fights and ztrow cauldronz around the clazzroom."

Not waiting for any sort of explanation from the boys, she gathered up the parchments that was scattered all over her desk and tucked them under her arm.

"I want you two to clean ouz all thoze cauldronz over zere. Remove all the sewage and zen disinfect zem. Afzer zat I want you to scrub ze deskz. Underztood?"

Harry and Ron groaned in unison, but had no choice but to agree. "Good, I will check in on you in a couple of hourz." She turned and headed for the door. Harry and Ron glanced at each other and instantly a small grin formed in the corner of their mouths. She hadn't said anything about not being allowed to use magic. Brilliant, Harry thought. Clearly this was a new beginner's mistake, but what did they care as long as they got off easily.

Halfway through the door however, Fleur stopped and held out her hand.

"Oh and by ze way, I will take your wands in the meantime. Ze cleaning will be performed Muggle-style."

At her words their by now wide smirks instantly faded and reluctantly they passed her the wands and watched depressingly as Fleur put them inside her robe. For a split second Harry was certain he saw the corner of her mouth curl into a small, almost sardonic smile, but she sobered up quickly.

"Have fun, genzlemen," she said almost evilly before she whisked off down the corridor leaving Harry and Ron facing a four hour battle against muck, filth and dirt.

* * *

"Ewww!"

Ron was sporting a grimace suggesting something vile and ghastly was teasing his nostrils. Harry didn't look any better.

"This is just about the most disgusting thing I've ever seen, including Hagrid's horrid breed of Skrewts! Look at this cauldron Ron, the bottom is completely covered with something sickly green smelling like boiled milk mixed with rotten eggs."

Harry shoved the cauldron in Ron's face; an action not particularly appreciated judging by the way he was desperately trying to push it away.

"You know buddy, I feel like spewing just by looking at my own cauldron, thank you very much, so there's really no need to describe the consistency of the muck you're battling against. Besides, the stink speaks volumes."

Harry snickered as he looked at Ron. His friend did indeed look slightly greenish around the gills, something that was totally understandable. They were currently hunched over the sink in the back of the dungeon struggling to clean the numerous cauldrons Fleur had put out, some of which they suspected hadn't been introduced to any form of soap for decades. It was strenuous work and both had already stripped off their jumpers and their fingers were sore from scrubbing.

Damn that Malfoy, Harry thought darkly. This whole mess was entirely his fault. Harry shook his head in disbelief remembering some of the vile things the Slytherin had said that afternoon. The son of a bitch seemed to have developed an even more obnoxious vocabulary over the summer. Malfoy had never been exactly civil when addressing them, but this year he'd really sunk low. Today's rant had been totally out of line and it was a pity a teacher hadn't been in the near proximity. Those profanities would undoubtedly have earned that slimy twit a detention too.

But Malfoy's filthy terminology was not the topic that occupied Harry's thoughts the most that evening. The flying cauldron however did. He still had no idea how and why it had happened, but there was no denying the fact that he'd felt a strange new power soar through his body just before it happened. And there was no denying the fact that he had wished for it to happen just moments before.

Harry's head was starting to ache again just thinking about all this. His life was complicated enough as it was and he had no particular desire to discover any more hidden powers or whatnot. The whole thing was very peculiar, and while he was trying to scrape of a particularly nasty piece of hardened goo, Harry was contemplating whether or not he should talk to Ron about it.

Harry truly hated keeping secrets from Ron. He was his best friend after all, not to mention the fact that he usually got pretty upset when he found he'd be left in the dark about things. The rage of Ron was not high on Harry's list of priorities these days. But on the other hand, Ron finding out that Harry might have even more hidden powers could possibly be even worse. He knew all to well that Ron was slightly envious of his fame, money and attention and with something like this in addition he would probably feel even more like a side-kick than he already did.

After weighing the pros and cons for a while Harry decided that if Ron brought it up he would answer truthfully and if not, well then he'd just let it lie for the time being. Ron hadn't mentioned it once since it happened something which Harry did find somewhat strange seeing as Ron had a rather curious nature. But as long as he didn't bring it up neither would Harry.

* * *

Two hours of scrubbing and polishing later and the number of cauldrons left to clean had shrunk to about two dozens. So far they hadn't spoken much and the silence was starting to get to Ron. He wasn't really a patient soul to begin with and working on something tedious like this without anything to take his mind of the icky stuff that was ruining his hands and nails was like torture. He longed for a conversation of some sort; the topic didn't matter as long as this retched silence was broken. He'd grown up in the Burrow for Pete's sake; he wasn't used to sound-free moments like this!

"So do you have any clue about what was written on that old parchment You-Know-Who showed that betraying bastard in your dream? From what I gather it appears to describe the reason why he's so eager to get rid off you, doesn't it?"

Ron had been thinking about this for a while. In fact he'd been wondering about You-know-who's vendetta against Harry for a long while, ever since the Philosopher's Stone back in first year to be exact. Harry himself didn't even know why this evil prick was chasing him like a maniac and this parchment-thingy was really the first real clue they'd gotten so far.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh and put down the cauldron he was attempting to clean. His fingers were all wrinkly from being in water for too long and they smelled really disgusting.

"Yeah, I did get the impression that the parchment held some kind of hint to why he seems so intent on killing me. Apart from the obvious that is." Harry smirked sheepishly. "You know little old me leaving him bodiless for a decade."

Ron chuckled. "Bet he never saw that one coming. I recon it was a rather nasty surprise for old Voldie, when an infant stopped him dead on his way to world domination. Bet he felt pretty pathetic after that fiasco."

When Ron put it like that the whole thing sounded rather funny, Harry had to admit. He had even gone as far as to call Voldemort "Voldie", something that could only be described as a leaping improvement on his part.

"I will at least be paying extraordinary attention in my dreams from now on in case the V-man drops another hint," Harry continued. "So far we have nothing specific to go on so it would probably be a waste of time to send Hermione off on an expedition to the library, although I'm sure she'd be delighted to do so."

Ron let out a small snort but didn't comment. Harry spotted a small smile on his lips. He's really proud of her and how smart she is, he thought silently while reaching for the next cauldron. If only he'd tell her that, then perhaps things would be different between them by now. Harry hid a smirk. At least their lives would a bit quieter he thought impishly, assuming they'd fight less and snog more.

Ron didn't notice the smirk and was oblivious to the thoughts circling through Harry's head at that moment. He'd namely managed to step on something brownish and smelly and his shoes were now reeking repulsively like rotten fish.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed heatedly jumping out of the puddle.

"Better hope that isn't a shrinking potion, mate," Harry said tantalizingly. "You would look a bit odd hopping around with one long and one short leg. But if it's attention you want, it'll be just perfect..."

"Oh shut up, Harry. I'm not in the mood for a stroll up to the infirmary this evening thank you very much, so this better be something harmless."

For a second or two nothing happened. "Maybe the effect has worn out or something?" Harry said slowly staring expectantly down on Ron's sneakers.

"Maybe Neville made it?" Ron suggested hopefully and they both broke down in fits of laughter.

But then... "Ah oh, that tickles. I think it's taking effect, whatever that might be."

And then Ron's (once black and white) sneakers started to change colours at an alarming rate. Red, yellow, burgundy, blue with pink stripes, green with large white polka dots, and it just went on from there.

Ron looked grumpily relieved. "It's just a Colouring potion. For a moment there I was afraid it would cause bodily damage. But honestly those are my best pair of shoes."

He frowned indignantly at the sight of his now purple footwear. "Now I'm forced to wear something not even Parvati would be caught dead wearing. Bugger!"

But there was little they could do about the colourful footwear without looking up an antidote, and that had to wait until the next day if they would hope to finish the cleaning before midnight.

Careful not to step into any other unknown substances Ron resumed the work and picked up on their previous conversation topic.

"Okay, so we're clueless on the parchment, but what about the prophecy by Krum's (he grimaced) grandmother? It says someone will betray you and a friendly face too. Have you thought about who it could be?"

This was the question he'd been aching to ask for ages. Personally Ron had a few suggestions himself, but was equally anxious to hear Harry's opinion.

"Dunno; guess it could be anyone" Harry answered silently. "The prophecy might be one big hoax for all I know. My experience with divination is not the best after all thanks to old Sybil. What do you think?"

Ron smiled broadly. "Oh there are so many candidates, where to begin?" he said snootily waving his hand arrogantly at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and kicked Ron in the butt.

"Hi, mind the rear; it's my most priced asset."

"Really?" Harry asked smiling gleefully watching Ron massage his behind. Ron stuck his tongue out and Harry laughed even harder.

"Okay butt-boy, how about you start revealing your top ten candidates to the Betrayal-of-the-year award while I get cracking on this wonderful pewter cauldron?" Ron guffawed and grabbed a cauldron of his own pretending to examine it carefully. Harry dubiously watched the inspection looking puzzled.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry curiously. Ron grinned broadly and pushed the stinking cauldron bottom in Harry's face knocking his glasses askew.

"Checking for leakages of course," he answered hoity-toitily. "You do realize that the leakages have increased with as much as three percent a year. Those blasted foreign imports!"

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron and shoved the cauldron back at him. "Hopefully Percy's cauldron report will save the day - your brother is making a courageous contribution to enforce the importance of household safety. He'll probably be awarded Order of Merlin any day now." Ron laughed wickedly and tossed the finished cauldron in the done pile.

Ron's face suddenly became very serious. "Okay Harry, Percy's ruddy cauldron bottoms might be a laughing matter but this betrayal-thing sure isn't. Assuming that this prophecy is correct, everyone we know is a suspect and that thought is enough to drive a poor bloke to the verge of paranoia. We have to discuss how to deal with this, and the sooner we do that the better."

Harry hadn't even thought about this. Mentally slapping his forehead in frustration he realized that Ron definitely had a point. They really had no way of knowing whom they could trust or not. A sinking feeling spread throughout his body and his heartbeat quickened. Someone he knew, maybe even a Gryffindor could be the one who'd betray him. The thought was depressing and heartbreaking.

Ron continued speaking while half-heartedly drying off a small cauldron. "In my opinion we should be extra careful about what we say while around other people, Gryffindor or not. I hate to be the one to say this, but we can't really afford to trust anyone at this point. Apart from Hermione, Sirius and Dumbledore that is," he added quickly.

"And Ginny," Harry said firmly.

Ron immediately looked ready to mouth his disagreement but Harry beat him to it. "It makes sense to trust her, Ron. She already knows about Sirius and if she was the one to betray me he would already be caught, don't you think?"

Ron reluctantly nodded but didn't look entirely convinced. "And do you honestly think your sister would willingly seek out Voldemort after the experience she had with him in her first year? If there is one person who has reason to hate Voldemort as much as I do it's her. She would never join him, Ron." Harry swallowed before he spoke again. "She'd rather die than to be in his power again."

For about a minute the only audible sound in the dungeon was the clinking of cauldrons hitting the sink and running water. Finally Ron spoke.

"I know that and it's not as if I don't trust her per say. But she's my little sister," he said silently avoiding Harry's eyes. "I don't like the idea of her being subjected to any of this. But you're right, we should include her. Sometimes I just forget that Ginny is the only other person to have met You-know... ah what the fuck, Voldemort and lived to tell the tale."

He looked pale but proud for saying the word and Harry gave him an approving pat on the back.

"Thanks Ron," Harry said gently, "for allowing Ginny to be a part as well as saying the name." He couldn't help but to smile gloatingly at Ron. "Wasn't that difficult now was it?"

Ron shuddered slightly but managed a small smile in return. "No, not really, but that doesn't mean that I'll make a daily habit of it. Not yet anyway, it'll take some getting used to, I suppose."

Harry was amazed that Ron had been persuaded this easily to include Ginny in their tight circle. This would mean sharing his friendships with another Weasley and Harry knew how touchy Ron was about having to share everything with his siblings. He's really a much nobler person than most people gave him credit for, Harry thought happily.

His own elation was mostly due to the fact that including Ginny would provide the perfect excuse for him to spend more time with her. Harry felt warm inside just thinking about it but felt like kicking himself for realizing. After all he did not really fancy Ron's little sister like that. She was just a great friend that was all.

A very pretty friend, a little annoying voice inside his head added teasingly. Harry glanced nervously at Ron afraid that he somehow could read his mind but he appeared too absorbed in own thoughts to notice anything at the moment.

He drew a breath of relief and began scolding himself silently. Honestly, he was loosing it. He didn't fancy anyone at the moment. Cho was definitely out of the picture and Ginny most definitely was not another crush!

But as much as his brain agreed on this reasoning, his heart was protesting wildly. But Harry refused to think about that. Ginny had already faced the Dark Lord once, and indirectly that too had been his fault. He was not about to put her in immediate risk of something like that happening again and that was all there was to say about that.

* * *

The rest of the cauldron cleaning went fairly well as the two Gryffindors were busy discussing who this mysterious betrayer possibly could be. They'd both immediately agreed that Malfoy was an obvious top candidate. He was mean, evil and hated Harry unconditionally - the perfect suspect in other words. But as Ron reluctantly pointed out, he unfortunately didn't quite fit the profile. The betrayer was supposed to be a friendly face; that is someone they wouldn't normally consider, and that criterion effectively left the despicable Draco Malfoy (or any member of his family for that matter) out of the running.

Ron also suggested Snape, and Harry had to agree that this was a more likely candidate. But Dumbledore trusted him with his life and to Harry that meant a great deal. Ron was not entirely convinced though, but as Snape wasn't even present at the school at this point, they weren't really too worried about him.

Besides Harry reasoned, Snape might be working for the Order but that didn't automatically make him chummy with the former Potions professor, far from it actually judging by the contemptuous glares the bat had sent him during the last Order meeting. And in his dream Voldemort had said that this person had gotten his Dark Mark tattoo at a recent meeting. Snape had however gotten his years and years ago.

One suggestion both Ron and Harry did agree upon though was Max the obnoxious exchange student. Even if he was a fellow Gryffindor neither of the boys trusted him. Harry's gut feeling suggested that there was something fishy about him, but unfortunately he had no proof to back this suspicion, at least not yet.

Hermione and Ginny on the other hand seemed to have developed a liking for the git and Harry and Ron wholeheartedly agreed that they had to persuade the girls not to talk too openly about things around him. This shouldn't really be too difficult knowing that they really shouldn't trust anyone at this point. Better safe than sorry seemed to be a good argument they reasoned and crossed their fingers that Hermione and Ginny would agree to this reasoning.

"There is one more evident suspect though," Ron said grimacing, a sullen look plastered all over his freckled face. "Really?" Harry asked in genuine surprise. "Who's that?"

Ron took his time before answering. Harry thought it looked like he was struggling not to spew, but finally he spat it out.

"Viktor buggering Krum."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. He should have known Ron would bring him up. "You really think so?" Harry enquired in his most neutral voice hoping Ron wouldn't spot his amusement. "He's not even in the UK. How can he be the one to betray us?"

Ron threw his hands despairingly in the air. "How can you say that, Harry? He's Durmstrang for crying out load. Durmstrang!! That is like the equivalent to Slytherin you know, maybe even worse. Remember Karkaroff? What guarantee do we have that Vicky is any better?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. He really didn't believe for a second that Viktor Krum would have anything to do with this, and he wasn't solely convinced that Ron thought so either. He was probably just searching for a plausible reason to make Hermione break all contact with him. In a freaky kind of way it was almost adorable to what length Ron would go to protect her, but Harry knew better that to say anything about it. He also assumed that Hermione wouldn't appreciate this accusation too highly. Ron however was not yet finished with his reasoning for suspecting the Bulgarian.

"This could possibly be the reason why he wormed his way into Hermione's life you know. I wouldn't be surprised if he was only toying with her emotions and using her to get to you." Ron's eyes were blazing with anger and Harry knew he had to calm his temperamental friend somehow before all hell broke loose.

"All right Ron," he found himself saying sarcastically. "If you're so sure about this I suggest you tell Hermione about it then. I'm sure she'll take the news with the utmost calm as she always does when you bring up the topic of Krum."

Ron flinched and shifted uncomfortable on the spot. He was clearly reliving the last row with Hermione provoked by her friendship with the Quidditch player. Eight long days of silence between them had been the result, and something like this could easily turn out even worse.

"Nah," Ron finally said waving his hand carelessly over his head. "He's probably not the one anyway." Harry grinned stupidly. It looked like Ron wasn't willing to risk falling out with her again with the New Years Ball coming up. Wise decision Weasley, Harry thought thankfully. Very wise indeed.

Their discussion on possible informers went on for the remainder of the detention. In the end the only conclusion they'd reached was that it in reality could be practically anyone from Moaning Myrtle to Professor Flitwick. Without further clues it would be impossible to pinpoint anyone. All they could do was to be extra careful about what they said in the presence of other people as well as keep an eye out for anything strange and suspicions.

Professor Delacour returned a quarter to midnight and expressed her heartfelt delight over all the work they'd done much to Ron's appreciation. After thoroughly inspecting the cleanliness of the cauldrons she handed them their wands back and shooed them off to bed. Neither Harry nor Ron needed telling twice and quickly exited the dungeon.

Harry yawned widely. His hands were red and sore from all the scrubbing and his back was aching from having been hunched over the sink for almost four straight hours. Beside him Ron was yawning too and let out a small yelp in the process. Harry was so dead tired that he didn't even bother to laugh or taunt him.

Seldom had he longed this hard for his bed and he already dreaded the painful experience of having to get up at the crack of dawn the next morning only to be drilled unmercifully in the exact and complex art of Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall demanded one hundred percent dedication and attentiveness in her class. Heavy eyelids and suppressed yawns would not be heartily welcomed and for the first time in his life Harry found himself wishing he had Divination first thing tomorrow. That would at least given him a golden opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep...

They walked in silence down the dark corridor towards the stairs that lead up to the Entrance Hall. Both were walking on autopilot, to drowsy and exhausted to pay any attention to their surroundings and so neither of them saw it coming.

Out from the shadows of a narrow passageway on the right side of the corridor, a figure suddenly appeared and without warning galloped straight into Ron who in turn lost his balance and knocked over Harry.

"What the fuck?" the yet unidentified figure exclaimed hotly as the three of them landed in a heap of tangled arms and legs on the icy stone floor. Struggling to their feet Harry strained his eyes trying desperately to reveal who the mysterious "attacker" was. Seeing as they were in the dungeons, an out-of-bed Slytherin seemed like the logical answer and nothing would please Harry more than to have Professor Delacour deduct a handful of points from her own house.

Due to lack of light Harry could only make out the contours of the boy (there was no doubt about the sex), but the voice had sounded oddly familiar. Ruffling of robes told him that Ron and the other fellow were now rising from the floor and he quickly followed suit. He reached for his wand in order to conjure up some light but Ron beat him to it.

"Lumos."

A small light appeared at the tip of Ron's wand and both the corridor and the person gradually came into focus. It most certainly wasn't a Slytherin. No Slytherin Harry knew had a hair colour quite like that.

"Charlie?" Ron whispered with evident surprise staring stupidly at his older brother. "What in the name of Bagman are you doing lurking around in the dungeons at this hour? I mean, you don't live down here do you? It's cold, about as unfriendly as a place can get, not to mention the fact that there's Slytherins down here." Ron finished his reasoning with a shudder so intense one should think he'd been talking about eight inch spiders.

Charlie was busy adjusting his robes and didn't answer straight away. His cheeks seemed a little flushed but Harry assumed that could be a trick of the light (or lack there off). Charlie's eyes quickly flickered from Ron to Harry and then to a point behind them in the corridor. There was something peculiar about his behaviour but Harry couldn't put his finger on it. Charlie looked a bit nervous, but what reason did he have for that? He was a teacher and was free to wander about the castle whenever and wherever he wanted. It was rather Ron and he that should feel nervous about bumping into a teacher at this time of night.

"Oh, I was just taking a night time stroll," Charlie finally answered in a strangely high-pitched voice compared to his usual baritone. He ran a hand nervously trough his hair. It looked messier than usual, almost as if he'd been asleep and woken without bothering to comb it.

"I couldn't sleep and thought I'd take a walk. I thought that might make me a bit sleepier." He still didn't meet their eyes and appeared to wish for a way to escape the whole situation.

"Okay, if you say so," Ron said with a funny look on his face. He stared at his brother and Charlie moved uncomfortably avoiding Ron's glance.

"We're heading back for Gryffindor tower now, want to tag along? Just finished detention with Fleur," Ron explained and gestured for Charlie to follow them, which he did.

"That's Professor Delacour to you," Charlie briskly corrected him, a slight edge to his voice. "Show some respect for your teachers will you?"

"Sorry, we didn't mean any disrespect or anything," Harry said apologetic as they started to climb the stairs. "It'll just take some time getting used to I suppose. I know her from the Triwizard tournament last year and I always called her by her first name then."

Charlie mumbled something that neither of them caught. They soon reached the Entrance Hall and Harry and Ron headed for the marble staircase. Charlie however made no sign of following them upstairs.

"My room is back this way," he said and pointed towards a door in the other end of the hall. "Eh, I would appreciate if you didn't mention to anyone about bumping into me in the dungeons. Strictly speaking we're not supposed to be out walking unless we're on call. The other patrollers might mistake us for intruders and hex us. Rumours have it that poor Professor Sprout got nailed with a Jelly-leg curse last year on her way back from the kitchens. She still hasn't forgiven Professor Sinastra who in her defence adamantly claimed she thought poor Sprout was a Dementor." He looked at them pleadingly.

"Sure Charlie, whatever," Ron said with a yawn. "I'm beat, good night"

"Night boys."

Ron and Harry sleepwalked their way to the Fat Lady, yawned the password and headed straight for bed. Both fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow, and for once Harry's usual nightmare of Death Eaters and Voldemort was replaced by a very strange dream involving dancing cauldrons, liberal amounts of muck and redheads.

* * *