Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

By Moon Weasley

Chapter Nineteen:

Erase and rewind

The next morning Ron was brutally awakened by an extremely annoying ray of sunshine. By mysterious means it had found its way through the heavy hangings around his bed, seemingly with the sole purpose of maddening him greatly. Sleepily he muttered a few selected curse words at the daring stream of light hoping to offend it into retreat. Unfortunately the little bugger was incorrigible and kept on dancing brightly across his freckled face much to Ron's growing dismay.

After being teased mercilessly by said sunbeam for a few minutes Ron reached the end of his patience. Concentrating hard (a mean task so early in the freaking morning) he managed to gather the needed energy to roll over and instantly celebrated a small victory over the offending intruder as it no longer bothered his eyes.

The endeavour of rolling his long body over did however make Ron aware of a blinding and most unwelcome headache. Adding the fact that the Christmas holiday was officially over and classes were now starting again and Ron just knew he was in for a very crappy sort of day. Not to mention that he actually had to get out of bed at this ungodly hour.

It wasn't exactly a secret that the youngest of the Weasley brothers was a slightly less than enthusiastic student. This was especially true when it came to completing homework and assignments. The classes themselves though Ron didn't mind so much. Naturally there were a few obvious exceptions such as Potions and Divination and to Ron's dismay this first school day of the year consisted of not only double potions with the Slytherins but also a fume intoxicating lesson with the horrid Trelooney herself. This could therefore in Ron's opinion not be classified as a good start to the New Year.

With an overpowering wave of sympathy towards Harry and his ongoing scar-pains, Ron finally managed to roll out of bed while groaning loudly in mere self-pity. After a quick scan of the dormitory he located his tattered school robes lying in a heap near the door, fetched them and slowly headed for the bathroom. Through a still sleepy-eyed daze he noticed that the four other beds were empty and Ron could only assume they'd already made their way to the Great Hall and was probably at this very moment enjoying a scrumptious and perfectly worry-free breakfast. Those lucky wankers.

Ron however was (despite his extreme hunger) in no hurry. Apart from not particularly looking forward to his classes that day (in addition to his two least favourite subjects his agenda also included Transfiguration and Charms), he seriously dreaded coming face to face with Lavender - and what was even worse, Hermione.

As far as he could tell Lavender loathed him at the moment - and not without reason Ron shamefacedly had to admit. He had thoroughly humiliated her last night and that in full view of half the Gryffindor students none the less. Definitely not one of his finest moments, but the girl just seemed to bring out nothing but the worst in him.

Honestly though Ron couldn't care less what Lavender thought of him. He was planning to break up with her anyway and the sooner the better! Hermione however was a completely different story. They hadn't said a word to each other since New Years Eve and Ron was amazed to find how much he actually missed her company.

"Bloody insanity that is," he muttered to himself while desperately trying to tame his sleep tousled hair. "Imagine missing a ruddy know-it-all bookworm like Hermione. It's a relief, that's what it is not having her breathing down my neck about stupid good-for-nothing goblin rebellions and two and a half mile long lists of useless potion recipes."

But it was no good. However much he tried to sound convincing, Ron couldn't even make himself believe it. In fact he, to his horror realized that he'd gladly give up his small broomstick-fund (he was saving up for a better broom - that old Shooting Star was a disgrace to the game of Quidditch) just to have Hermione pester him about something - her choice of topic didn't matter. Hell, she could lecture him about pimple-charms or something equally disgusting for all he cared. For now Ron would settled for being back on speaking terms with her.

After battling with his own reflection for a good ten minutes Ron faced defeat. No matter how hard he stared, grimaced and scowled at the enchanted mirror he couldn't make it change. His nose was just as abnormally long as the day before, his complexion could rival that of Nearly Headless Nick any day and the number of freckles seemed to multiply by the second like some sort of out of control bacteria. He couldn't for the life of him see what Lavender found attractive about it. Despite the mirror's comforting words ("You look smashing sonny, simply spiffing!") Ron thought he looked about as good as a troll on a really, really bad hair-day.

No longer able to ignore the desperate growls coming from his beyond empty stomach, Ron forcefully threw Dean's tube of Muggle hair gel (he'd been desperate) into a corner and headed gloomily for the Great Hall. Looking like he was on death roll, he dragged his feet down the deserted corridors praying desperately that both girls had finished their breakfast by now. Just thinking about them seemed to wreck havoc with his appetite - seeing them while eating appeared like an impossible combination.

On his way down the many stairs he couldn't help but ponder some of the things Harry had said yesterday. He'd actually implied that he thought Hermione might like him back - as in more than a platonic sort of friend. Just thinking about the possibility made Ron's ears go scarlet, something that earned him a few taunting words from some of the moving portraits along the way.

With the words of Sir Cardogan still ringing in his ears, ("Red alert, watch out lasses the blushing knight approaches!) Ron reached the Great Hall and to his great relief neither Hermione nor Lavender was present at the Gryffindor table. With a new spring to his feet Ron bounced over to the table where Harry was sitting looking thoroughly displeased. The reason seemed to be sitting directly across from him in the form of a very giddy-looking Colin Creevey. He was blabbering on about something that obviously was annoying Harry to no end. The Boy Who Lived seemed tempted to put a very nasty hex on him judging by the way he was twirling his wand impatiently between his fingers.

"Finally!" Harry hissed almost malevolently as Ron slouched down in the seat next to him and began pouring liberal amounts of sausages onto his plate. "Took your bloody time, didn't you. I've been tortured for a good fifteen minutes by that camera-obsessed midget while you've been sleeping away the morning. I've had to constrain myself from hexing the boy into muteness."

Ron sniggered into his goblet and patted Harry good-naturedly on the back. "Oh, take it easy old chap," he said in a singsong voice that judging by the scowl on Harry's face wasn't what he considered an appropriate tone of voice so early in the morning. Ron chose to ignore it and continued chirping between mouthfuls.

"Just think about what glorious tasks I have in store for this day and I assure you a little torment from the older yet only slightly taller Creevey-brother is mouse piss in comparison. And besides we have Potions next."

Ron grinned at Harry who just now seemed to remember what day it was and his facial expression soon changed from annoyance to nausea.

"Slytherins," he groaned hoarsely. "Wonderful!"

"That's correct my friend," Ron confirmed between mouthfuls. "All that's missing from making this the worst possible start to the New Year imaginable is the timely return of our beloved Snape."

Making a choking sort of sound Harry muttered "God forbid," whereupon the boys picked up their bags and headed for the dungeons.

* *

It was close to nine o'clock in the evening when Harry finally returned from Quidditch practice completely covered in dirt and sweat. As he clambered through the portrait hole he couldn't help feeling sort of lonely. For once Ron wasn't two steps behind him, gesturing wildly and talking non-stop about the team's latest progress all the while hatching dare devilish new moves and formations.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team had been visibly puzzled by his friend's unexpected absence. Usually Ron was the first one down on the pitch, stacks of parchment with tactics protruding from various pockets and a manic Oliver Wood-ish gleam to his eyes. It was Ron who led the sessions from the sideline, with George only pretending to captain in case any nosy Slytherins should be lurking around the premises. Ever since the "crowning" last fall Ron had never missed a single practise. It was therefore with a certain amount of trepidation that Harry let his eyes wander about the common room in search of the missing redhead.

But Ron or no Ron, it had still been a good session. George had been in a particularly playful mood, spiking up their training session with a few fake bludgers the twins had just invented. In an inattentive moment poor Angelina had been hit in the head by one of these mad creations, something he suspected she wouldn't forget in a hurry. But instead of the nasty bump one should expect from such a thumping, Angelina had, quite unexpectedly, found herself drenched from head to toe in sticky marmalade. The highlight of the evening had been when Fred had attempted to munch on her elbow claming to mistake her for a toasted sandwich.

The common room was packed with students. Some were hunched over the first homework of the year while others again were busy playing exploding snap, gobstones or just hanging out chatting merrily. One person however didn't participate in either of these activities.

Ron was sitting in one of the more secluded armchairs sporting a faraway look and a heavily bruised left cheek. Both his demeanour and extensive facial damage immediately told Harry that Ron hadn't had the start to the school year that he was hoping for.

After placing his Firebolt by the stairs Harry made his way over to Ron's refuge and sat down in the chair next to him. Ron greeted him with a less than enthusiastic wave followed by a very heartfelt sigh.

"Bad day?" Harry asked in what he hoped was an encouraging sort of voice. Ron snorted.

"You could say that, yeah," he said sarcastically. He didn't offer any explanations and Harry wasn't sure whether or not he should pry further into Ron's problems. For a minute or so none of them said a word.

"Have you ever had one of those days when you wish you could start all over again?"

Ron was staring at his hands and seemed almost embarrassed by his question. The question however was not new to Harry. Looking back on the past four years there were plenty of days he wished he could do all over again.

Like the day in first year when they'd lost 150 points from Gryffindor in one go. He definitely would like the chance to undo the giant mistake of forgetting the Invisibility Cloak up in the tower. And the day in second year when Dumbledore had asked him if there was anything he would like to tell him. How Harry wished he could go back and confess about the voice he kept hearing inside the walls instead of keeping it a secret. That way he could possibly have avoided all the petrifying not to mention avoiding poor Ginny being possessed and manipulated by Tom Riddle.

Harry also desperately wanted to go back and prevent Wormtail's unfortunate escape. And last but not least - he desperately wished he could redo the dreaded day of the third task. So the answer to Ron's question was a thundering yes! Harry had most definitely experienced days like that.

To Ron however he answered with a simple "yeah," but Ron seemed pleased enough with that and didn't demand any examples.

"Is this one of those days, then?" Harry asked tentatively and Ron nodded grimly.

"If I had the chance I'd recon I'd start the whole bloody year over. What I wouldn't give for a go with Hermione's time turner. Pity she handed that one in."

Harry nodded understandingly. "We could definitely have put it to good use on one or two occasions, but I fear it would be at the expense of our dear Hermione's mental health. Probably would have worked herself into a nervous breakdown by now don't you think if that device was to be left in her possession?"

Now it was Ron's turn to nod and apparently he overdid it somewhat. He winced and gingerly but a finger to the bruise that already was beginning to show signs of a large spectre of colours.

"Wanna tell me about the fancy artwork on your face?" Harry asked pointedly and Ron grimaced.

"I suppose there is no harm in sharing the events of this miserable day with you." He leaned back into the armchair and closed his eyes. "As you know it all started with Potions and it just kind of went downhill after that..."

* * *

Potions Dungeon - early that morning:

The absence of both Hermione and Lavender at the breakfast table had had its effect on Ron's initial black mood. As a matter of fact it had turned him almost chipper much to Harry's evident chagrin. Naturally he'd known perfectly well that this only meant a temporary delay of the inevitable confrontations, but as a natural procrastinator Ron just couldn't help himself.

And sure enough, as soon as he and Harry set foot on the stairs leading down to the dungeons, Ron felt his newfound jolliness disappearing little by little with every step.

Potions meant seeing both Hermione and Lavender. And furthermore Potions meant the unwelcome presence of Slytherins. Ron sighed heartily. Thank god at least Snape was gone, he reminded himself in a lame attempt to boost his spirits. He didn't think he would survive the class if he couldn't spend most of it ogling Fleur. After all there was nothing like a healthy dose of Veela charm to mentally subdue a mind when faced with utterly boring potion recipes and intolerable classmates...

They entered the classroom just before the bell. Ron swallowed hard and did his best not to let his eyes wander too much. In his peripheral vision he spotted Lavender sitting stiffly next to Parvati. He heard Parvati whispering something to her friend whereupon Lavender made a noise of utmost disgust.

Ignore her, ignore her, ignore her Ron mentally chanted and tried his best to keep his eyes firmly planted on a randomly selected spot on Harry's somewhat wrinkly robes that hung haphazardly from his stooping shoulders. Apparently Harry wasn't too thrilled to be here either.

Seconds later however Harry's robes disappeared from view and Ron found himself staring straight into Hermione's hazel eyes. Harry, the blasted git, had unceremoniously and without warning dumped down in his usual seat next to Hermione and was already busy rummaging through his bag for something or the other.

Ron felt his ears starting to heat up (bloody blushing ears!) and searched furtively for something to do or say. She was looking straight back at him as if daring him to make the first move. Ron however was totally paralysed.

Sit down you sod screamed a small voice inside his head but his body was unable to react. Each second that passed felt like an hour, everything in the dungeon except Hermione seemed to slip out of focus. Somewhere behind him Ron vaguely heard the unmistakable simpering of Pansy Parkinson and her Slytherin girlfriends but he found himself incapable of deciphering what they were tittering about. He was completely and utterly lost in a pair of chocolate eyes.

"Ha, I knew I had a spare quill!"

The sound of Harry's triumphant outburst brought Ron spinning back to reality.

"Uh that's great Harry," he muttered lamely and dropped his bag down next to his seat. Harry gave him a curious stare.

"Something the matter, Ron?" he asked and Ron quickly shook his head. "Just a bit tired," he explained and Harry nodded understandingly.

Ron then drew a deep breath and turned to look at Hermione again. Better to just jump right into it, he thought nervously. Got to talk to her sooner or later anyway.

Miraculously his voice actually sort of worked. "Morning Mione," he choked out squeakily and gave her a small tentative smile. Not expecting her to return it, he almost lost his footing when she awarded him with her most dazzling smile. "Morning Ron, did you sleep well?"

She didn't look the slightest bit peeved with him. As a matter of fact she seemed perfectly normal. Ron couldn't help the goofy smile that instantly spread across his face. Why on earth had be been dreading meeting her again?

"Not really," he answered truthfully as he slumped down on her other side. "I'm kind of dreading a certain conversation I have to have with a certain someone."

Just as he finished the sentence Ron felt like kicking himself for saying it. If there was one thing he didn't want to discuss with Hermione, it was the embarrassing affair with Lavender. Hermione however seemed perfectly unbaffled by his statement.

"I'm sure it'll work out fine," she said reassuringly as she arranged her desk in her usual manner: Ink bottle unscrewed and ready, several quills lined up, a stack of spare parchment within reaching distance and her book opened to the assigned chapter. Ron sighed happily. Everything was back to normal.

But a normal existence also unfortunately meant Slytherins...

"Well well well, if it isn't Hogwarts newly appointed Don Juan," an oily voice drawled a couple of seats further back. "Tell me Weasel, why aren't you sitting with your girlfriend? Trouble in paradise already?" Draco Malfoy's taunting was literally piercing Ron's ears, bringing the blood in his veins close to boiling point.

"Just ignore him Ron," Hermione whispered soothingly having obviously noticed that he was already shaking with anger. Malfoy had undoubtedly also noticed that his taunting was having an effect on Ron, and so he happily continued.

"I suppose it really is for the best to keep you and the lovely Miss Brown separated during class. Judging by the sickening display you put on at the Ball we could easily be exposed to another snog-fest."

The Slytherins howled with laughter and Ron saw that Lavender had buried her head in her arms in what he assumed was an attempt to block out the words. Judging by the way her shoulders were shaking Ron suspected it wasn't working, however. Damn that bloody ferret, he thought despairingly. However annoying Lavender might be she really didn't deserve being publicly humiliated like this.

"Shut up Malfoy!" he barked and attempted wholeheartedly to launch himself across the aisle. Unfortunately something was holding him back.

"He's not worth it, Ron. Let it go." Harry had grabbed a firm hold of his shabby robes and thus effectively restricting him from beating the smirking blond git into a bloody pulp. "Let me pummel him, Harry," Ron hissed but this only made Harry tighten his grip. Across the aisle Malfoy continued spitting out insults to the other Slytherins great amusement.

"Honestly, I don't quite get what she sees in you, Weasel. Apart from the unfortunate fate of being sorted into Gryffindor there really is nothing wrong with Brown over there, although I would advice her to try and find a more worthy boyfriend. I mean the only thing you can offer the poor girl is multiple red-haired children, the inglorious prospect of a wardrobe containing a pitifully minuscule assortment of shabby hand-me-downs and an absolute minimum of Galleons."

Lavender had by now abandoned all pretence of hiding her tears. Parvati was trying to comfort her all the while glaring daggers at Ron. Obviously she thought he should do something to defend his alleged girlfriend. And she was right, Ron acknowledged guiltily.

And so with a tremendous amount of self-control that even surprised Ron, he managed to suppress the overwhelming urge to put his clenched fists to good use on Malfoy pointy and pale mug. Instead he settled for a verbal comeback.

"If I didn't know any better Malfoy, I'd say you're jealous," Ron responded calmly. "I don't recall seeing any girls at the Ball stupid enough to let a slimy bastard like you kiss them. Even Pansy here was sensible enough to avoid your foul mouth anywhere near hers. And just because Lavender doesn't want anything to do with you, doesn't give you the right to embarrass her in class like this. Taunt me all you want, you always do anyway but leave her alone."

Now it was the Gryffindors turn to howl with laugher at Malfoy's expense. He paled considerably and was evidently about to retort when the bell rang. Just as the door to the dungeon burst open Ron flashed him a triumphant smirk that he knew the Slytherin would find absolutely ghastly and turned towards the blackboard. Ron's smirk instantly faded upon seeing the professor.

Snape was back.

He looked exactly the same. Still greasy-haired, hook-nosed and extremely grumpy-looking Ron noted dejectedly. He sneered malevolently while scanning the dungeon through narrow, hateful eyes. Clearly not too impressed with what he saw (aside from the Slytherin side of the room, naturally), he banged his enormous Potions book onto the desk with an earth shattering bang. The dungeon immediately fell silent.

"Why is it," he began in his usual drawling voice, "that every single one of you has failed to assemble your cauldrons even though the bell sounded ages ago? I find this most disappointing. I fear Professor Delacour has let the discipline of this class go dreadfully downhill in my absence."

He slowly moved among the students, tutting disapprovingly. Neville, who'd actually made some progress in this class under Fleur's patient teachings, was visibly trembling in his seat. Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins on the other hand looked as if they'd just received a glorious delayed Christmas present. Pansy Parkinson even went as far as to raise her hand with evident excitement.

"Yes, Parkinson," Snape said in a velvety tone of voice that he reserved solely for the Slytherin students. Pansy seemed close to ecstasy.

"On behalf of myself and my friends I would just like to welcome you back, Professor. You've been sorely missed, Potions just hasn't been the same without you."

Both she and her girlfriends immediately burst into compulsive giggles. Ron couldn't help but roll his eyes and next to him Hermione and Harry were sporting identical looks of pure nausea. Behind him Seamus and Dean were making not so subtle choking sounds.

"Why thank you, Ms. Parkinson," Snape said silkily and began walking back towards his desk, only pausing momentarily next to Neville making the poor guy turn paler than Ron thought healthy. "Gifted as Professor Delacour is rumoured to be, I still think it is only appropriate to conduct a little quiz to see whether you're up to speed on your learning."

Sighs and groans echoed of the dungeon walls as Snape picked up a parchment and gazed coldly at the class. He scanned the parchment carefully while a cruel gleam spread to his dark eyes. "And I think we'll start with you, Longbottom."

Unsurprisingly the oral quiz was a complete nightmare for the Gryffindors. Snape had concocted up the most complicated questions from texts not yet covered by the fifth years and took great pleasure in removing points in an alarming rate every time they failed to deliver the correct answer.

The Slytherins however were given laughably easy questions even a small child of five knew the answer to. Protesting to the injustice didn't help matters either as Hermione soon found out. She was (unsurprisingly) the only Gryffindor who knew the answers to Snape's ridiculous questioning and so he was unable to deduct points from her. This was however nicely balanced when she made the grave mistake of protesting loudly to the unfairness of it all.

"Twenty point from Gryffindor, Granger for your unfounded accusations of discrimination!" Snape barked out with evident joy, making the total points lost for Gryffindor that day a round hundred. It was as if Snape was trying his utmost to make up for the time he'd been absent.

Hermione looked ready to protest even louder at this but Ron knew it would only make matters worse. He therefore quickly put his hand over her mouth and whispered urgently in her ear. "Don't say anything; he'll only be too happy to give you a detention." For some reason this made Hermione turn rather pink and she nodded slowly. Ron reluctantly withdrew his hand. She really did have the softest skin...

"Well, well Mr Weasley, I see the rumours about you are indeed correct."

Snape had somehow managed to glide unnoticed up beside Ron and was now hovering over him with a nasty smirk on his greasy face. "A little bird whispered to me that the second youngest Weasley apparently had developed a certain fascination for the opposite sex in my absence. Perhaps it would be advisable to remove you from Miss Granger's side seeing as you obviously are having trouble keeping your hands off her."

Ron couldn't help but gape at Snape's remark. A slight gagging sound was all he managed to choke out before the professor continued on his cruel monologue. Malicious sniggers could be heard from the Slytherin side of the classroom.

"Maybe we should place you next to Miss Brown instead?" Snape asked innocently and paused for a second as if he was seriously considering this.

"No, on second thought that would probably prove to be even more difficult on your raging hormones, Weasley. Apparently you've already done a thorough examination of her tonsils, and I fear for what else we might witness if the distance between you were reduced."

Never had the Slytherins hollered louder and more evilly during a Potions class. Ron felt humiliated beyond words and was shaking with ill-suppressed rage. Answering back was no option seeing as that probably would seal his eviction from the school. Snape had been searching high and low for a reason to throw Harry and him out of Hogwarts for years and Ron was damned if he was going to give the slimy bat the satisfaction of doing exactly that.

With clenched teeth he raised his eyes to meet Snape's but surprisingly the professor wasn't looking at him at all. In fact he'd already returned to the front of the dungeon and was busy scribbling their homework on the blackboard. Odd, Ron thought and turned towards Harry arching his eyebrow. Harry simply shrugged in a fashion that told Ron he should be thankful Snape had given up his torture for the day.

However Ron's peace was short-lived. Seconds later he felt something wet and slimy hit him on the ear. Soaking lacewings dripped down onto his parchment staining it terribly. Ron was not the least bit surprised to find Malfoy smirking broadly when he turned his head.

Sporting a look of greatest bliss he was flashing a parchment bearing the headline "Randy Ron". The drawing, however artfully poor, clearly showed what Ron assumed was meant to be him doing unmentionable things to two drawn girls labelled "Lavender" and "Mudblood". Ron blushed scarlet and quickly stole a glace at Hermione hoping desperately that she hadn't seen it. Luckily she was engrossed in her own parchment and Ron quickly grabbed a handful of his own lacewings and threw them forcefully back at Malfoy.

Most of it hit its target as intended, messing up Malfoy's pristine robes and delicately combed hair. Unfortunately though some of it zoomed past him and hit Pansy the Banshee. She let out a piercing shriek and before Ron could say "Detention" that was exactly what he had gotten...

* * *

Hogwarts corridor - straight after potions:

Stomping out of the dungeons some excruciatingly long minutes later, Ron's mood was anything but perky to say the least. And for once Hermione actually sympathised with the hothead.

After Snape (with evident delight) had given the seething Weasley a detention for his crime of "intentionally polluting a teaching environment while soiling a fellow student", time had slowed down to a torturously dawdling pace. Hermione honestly couldn't remember a single incident where she'd longed more intensely for a class to end than this one.

And yes, contrary to everyone's believes, Hermione did on occasion wish desperately for classes to end. Not that she'd ever admit to this, heaven forbid! It was far to satisfying driving Harry and Ron up the wall with pretending to find every subject immensely interesting and gushing over textbooks with fervour. Hermione couldn't fight a small smile forming at the corner of her mouth when thinking about it. It particularly drove Ron up the wall, and she simply loved getting him riled up...

This morning it had been exceptionally difficult to uphold her "I-can't-wait-for-the-class-to-start-so-that-I-can-show-off-my-seemingly-bottomless-source-of-knowledge-about-everything" attitude. From the very moment Harry and Ron had entered the dungeon she'd been fighting hard to keep up her cheerful yet appropriately studious facade.

Hermione had of course expected it to be difficult facing Ron again after the git unknowingly had broken her heart just days ago, but for once reality had proven much worse than she'd imagined even at her most pessimistic moments. And that was really saying something!

Naturally she'd approached the task of facing Ron again without spluttering and blushing in the only reasonable way Hermione knew - through thorough research and preparations.

During the night she'd snuck out of bed and secretly "borrowed" Parvati's vast collection of Teen Witch magazines in hope of attaining some useful information about - well, about boys. Her primary and preferred source to reliable information, namely the library had been disappointingly short on the subject (and believe me, she had looked). So in all her desperation she had swallowed her pride and turned to glossy gossipy magazines. Heaven knows what that would do to her reputation if it ever came out...

After having read through an entire season's worth of issues, the advice she'd gotten could at best be described as fluctuating. While one issue would tell her to ignore him and play hard to get in order to get his attention, another would tell her to be persistent. In the end her conclusion had been that facing him straight on seemed to be the best solution after all. But that had to be practiced...

Hermione had truthfully felt somewhat pathetic as she'd drawn out several scripts with possible scenarios depicting their first meeting face to face. She'd even gone as far as to practice before the mirror in her dormitory in order to perfect her facial expressions and tone of voice. Fat lot of good that had done her, she thought resignedly as she followed Ron and Harry up the stairs towards the Entrance Hall.

A steady flow of increasingly more obscene curse words followed in Ron's wake, but for once she didn't bother scolding him and instead allowed herself to wallow in them. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Harry giving her a befuddled stare, clearly wondering what was wrong with her. Hermione sighed silently, fixed her eyes on a spot far ahead and pointedly ignored him. Really she huffed, was she that predictable?

She parted with the boys a few moments later and watched as they both somewhat unenthusiastically dragged their feet towards the divination tower for an entire hour filled with complete rubbish and silly guesswork. Despite her somewhat subdued mood Hermione couldn't help but scoff at the sheer uselessness of that particular class. Why the boys hadn't dropped the subject by now seeing how much they both hated it was in all a complete mystery to her. Honestly, there were so many more useful subjects to partake in, such as Arithmancy or in Ron's case Muggle studies (he still didn't know how to use a telephone for crying out loud!)

But frankly Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that pure laziness would explain why they both stuck with it. Both Harry and Ron probably found the opportunity to obtain fairly good grades while making up cock and bull stories too good an opportunity to pass. "Lazy gits," she whispered affectionately and couldn't help but smile a little. In a completely un-academically and non-studious way their creative (though obvious) fabrications were actually kind of charming. Not that she would ever admit to such a thing, of course.

She reached the Arithmancy classroom shortly after, entered and settled at her usual desk right at the front. Once again Hermione was early for class. It had become sort of a ritual over the last couple of years for her to arrive almost ten minutes before the bell rang for this particular lesson. Most of the other students probably thought she was just unnaturally eager or did so just to kiss up to the professor. Whatever they thought, Hermione didn't care. She truly treasured these precious minutes in solitude when she was free to let her thoughts wander without being interrupted. And today she needed it more than ever.

She'd been completely unprepared for her intense reaction to Ron and Lavender's snog/dance at the New Years Ball. Hermione had actually managed to convince herself that she was perfectly at peace with the fact that Ron obviously didn't reciprocate the feelings she was harbouring for him. Honestly, you couldn't force a guy to like you back, now could you?

And further more she knew perfectly well that he would be going with Lavender. She'd watched him ask her to be his date for heavens sake so it really shouldn't have come as such a shock to her when he kissed her. Honestly, that was what you did with people you fancied, right?

Hermione groaned and let her head fall heavily forward to rest on her arms. Knowing this however was one thing - witnessing it and accepting it, had been something completely different.

Hermione visibly cringed thinking back on her disastrous reaction. Running away sobbing hysterically was probably the most idiotic thing she could have done. Everybody had seen it, and now everybody probably knew how she felt. And by everybody she meant everybody - including Ron.

And that was what was really bothering Hermione. Most likely Ron knew now. How was she supposed to face him and act natural around him knowing that he knew how she felt? It could easily alter their entire friendship, shatter it or in worst case destroy it completely. And that was Hermione's worst fear - loosing Harry and Ron's friendship.

But after hiding out in the library and her dormitory for the last couple of days avoiding people like the plague, she had come to the decision that she at least wasn't going to let the friendship go downhill without a fight. She was going to try and act as though nothing had happened and hope Ron would play along. Ignorance supposedly was bliss and Hermione was determined to find out if there was any truth to the old saying.

So with racing heart, sweaty palms and shaking hands she'd faced him. She had already been sitting at their usual desk when he and Harry had entered the dungeon. She'd planned it that way so that the first move would have to be his. He would have to decide whether he wanted to sit next to her like he normally did or not. And he had!

The whole thing had been like watching something played out in slow motion; him entering, him stealing a look at Lavender but passing her without stopping or talking (Hermione had felt like doing an extremely animated jig at this point) and then he finally stopped right in front of her. It had been difficult not to break out in celebratory song but she'd managed to keep her act together. And for a moment things had been exactly like normal. He'd even hinted that he was dreading breaking up with Lavender, but Hermione was still reluctant to hope that this was true. After all there was no need to get her hopes up again.

But then Malfoy had opened his foul mouth and things had kind of gone a bit downhill after that. God, how she hated that blond pointy-faced sorry excuse for a human being! Keeping up her normal facial expression was difficult enough as it was; enduring taunting and below the belt punches about the incident was almost more than she could take. She'd ached for Fleur to come and start the lesson, but to her dismay the person that entered had done nothing to improve the situation. On the contrary, Snape had actually taken great pleasure in poking fun at Ron's expense leaving the Slytherins close to ecstasy during most of the class.

As the bell sounded and students began sidling into the classroom, Hermione squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She'd reached a decision. She wasn't going to antagonize over Ron anymore! There was precious little she could do to make him reciprocate her feelings anyway, so why spend most of her waking hours thinking, dreaming and pondering the enigma that was Ron Weasley? It was his loss, really she thought with a slight huff and with great determination she opened her book to the assigned chapter and prepared to once again dazzle Professor Vector with her knowledge.

Arithmancy passed in its usual manner which naturally included Hermione being awarded numerous points for knowing obscure things nobody else had heard about and probably never would bother learning either unless Professor Vector would imply that it would be included on their O.W.L's.

Her resolve to put any romantic notions about Ron out of her mind was still fresh in her mind, and as she packed up her books Hermione realized that she truthfully was looking forward to having lunch with the boys again. She hadn't seen hide or hair of them during her self-inflicted isolation, and she honestly missed their company.

Unfortunately her cheerful mood was destined to be far too short-lived for her taste. Just two packed corridors and one winding staircase later she managed to bump straight into the last person she wanted to be in any form of immediate proximity to.

Draco Malfoy.

"Watch were you're going, Mudblood!" the pale Slytherin exclaimed hotly while demonstratively massaging his left elbow where Hermione's book bag had fleetingly grazed him. "Not only are you intentionally contaminating me with your filthy Mudblood germs, but you're also physically harming me. I feel obligated to inform my father about this you know."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes. "Honestly Malfoy, that is getting so old. You're not really suffering under the illusion that remarks like that actually hurt my feelings, do you? Or that I feel threatened by it?" She shot him a pointy look that Malfoy arrogantly returned. Hermione impatiently shifted her book bag from one shoulder to the other and tossed her hair back. "Because it really doesn't - you're simply wasting your time."

She lifted her chin triumphantly and turned to walk away, when Malfoy grabbed her arm.

"Cheeky little bitch," he hissed and dug his fingers hard into her arm. It hurt but Hermione refused to let it show.

"Let go of me or I'll scream attack faster than you can blink."

The threat didn't seem to work. Malfoy smirked malevolently and twisted her arm back further. It was now perched at an extremely uncomfortable angle and his fingers tightened the grip making her wince.

"Go ahead you filthy little Muggle, scream you heart out. Take a look around. There's nobody here, no teachers, no students and no Potty or Weasel to come dashing to the rescue."

He formally spat the last words into her face and Hermione closed her eyes wanting to block out the disgusting view of pale Malfoy inches away from her nose. "You really should know better than to wander around all by you lonesome without your little freckled bodyguard nearby." He paused and twisted her arm even further back. Hermione whimpered. "Who knows what little accidents might happen. They could easily turn almost...deadly."

A slightly less temperamental person would probably not have reacted like Hermione did when faced with an unmistakeable death threat such as this. The sensible side of her that people most frequently witnessed vanished faster than a snitch. All her logic and sense left her and she felt her anger build up to a volcanic level within milliseconds. How dared this pathetic spoiled little brat walk around making idle junior Death Eater threats in such a casual manner? Not to mention in broad daylight?

Before Malfoy even had a chance to finish plastering what he surely thought was an intimidating sort of scowl onto his sallow face, Hermione had sprung into action. With a precision and swiftness she didn't knew she possessed, she whirled around freeing herself from his tight grip. On instinct her left knee sought out his more delicate parts while her right fist did a striking repeat of her famous slap during third year. It would be safe to say that Malfoy never saw it coming.

In her blazing anger Hermione barely registered him hitting the floor, clutching his private parts and wheezing from suppressed pain. Serves him right, she thought triumphantly as she retrieved her book bag from the floor and pushed her hair back. As she continued on her way to the Great Hall for lunch she was accompanied by a thunderous applause from the portraits along the corridor.

* * *

Charms corridor - just before lunch:

"Bloody annoying fortune-telling fraud!"

Ron was muttering obscenities under his breath as he strode along the Charms corridor in a very swift pace sometime just before lunch. He'd just survived a nightmarish class of Divination with the old bat Treloony and the experience hadn't actually left him in a swinging mood to say the least.

Just when you thought old Sybil couldn't get mistier or gaudier, she'd gone ahead and completely shocked them. Even Parvati (who lately had taken to wearing the same kind of flashy robes in batik patterns and kitschy jewellery as her mentor) had been taken aback when the teacher had made a dramatic entrance into the steamy and foggy classroom. She'd been clad in robes of pure gold with a matching hat roughly the size of Hagrid's pumpkin patch. And to add to the already atrocious attire, about a dozen not so classy necklaces had distastefully decorated the front of her robes.

As Trelawney literally floated by Ron and Harry's seats at the very back Ron's long freckly fingers had been itching to grab hold of a handful of the fake gems and give them a nice yank to bring the misty professor down a notch or two. Not that he actually thought it could be accomplished. Sybil Trelawney was in his humble opinion forever and ever lost to the real world. Not that it was such a loss, really...

The sight of a golden and sparkly Trelawney had caused Harry to pretend to puke violently into Seamus's bag much to Dean and Neville's great amusement. The Irish himself hadn't noticed at all seeing as he was way to preoccupied staring longingly at Lavender. She on the other hand was pointedly avoiding looking up from her tarot cards seemingly still not fully recovered from the humiliation she'd endured in Potions.

And it was her Ron was looking for at this very moment. She'd dashed off right after class at an incredible speed and he still hadn't found her. He'd already checked the common room and the Great Hall as well as every other nock and cranny he could think of, but so far without result.

Ron's stomach was currently protesting loudly to the fact that he was spending his precious lunch break roaming the deserted corridors in search of a girl he really didn't want to talk to, when he alternatively could be comfortably seated at the Gryffindor table consuming a vast and scrumptious lunch.

Yet he had to get this off his chest and the sooner the better. Firstly because Ron didn't think he could take any more of Lavender's blabbering or romantic tarot readings. And secondly because she really shouldn't have to suffer through any more taunting incidents like this morning, especially since he didn't even like her in that way at all.

Ron once again shuddered when thinking about the Ball. "You're the stupidest prat ever, Ronald Weasley," he loudly scolded himself as he rounded a corner on his way to the library.

"Well, Weasel, I believe that is the truest thing I've ever heard you say."

Ron froze. There was no mistaking that drawling voice. Great, he groaned inwardly. Just what I need now - another encounter with our favourite villain and self-proclaimed bad boy.

Ron quickly installed his most neutral facial expression trying (but not succeeding in the least) not to show his growing irritation and turned towards Malfoy. The translucent git was leaning against the wall in a rather curious posture. Almost as if he can't quite stand up straight, Ron observed with rising interest.

Normally Malfoy stood up straighter than a pole with his pointy nose facing arrogantly towards the ceiling. Yes, Ron thought gleefully, something definitely wasn't quite right with this stinking piece of moral garbage on legs today.

Still clutching the stonewall Malfoy was glaring evilly at him, a look that Ron gladly returned.

"Loosing your mind, sidekick?" Malfoy wheezed. "Talking to yourself is not a sign of great mental health you know. Perhaps a lengthy stay at St.Mungo's is in order?"

Ron grinned openly now. Crossing his arms he leaned casually against the wall across from Malfoy openly savouring the sight of a highly discomposed Malfoy.

"My my my, whatever happened to you?" he asked silkily allowing his eyes to swiftly travel from the blossoming bruise on his face to the unmistakable crouching of a boy recently having experienced something hard hitting his more sensitive body parts. This was just like Christmas all over again, Ron thought happily.

"No wait, don't tell me," he ventured gleefully. "Let me guess, Crabbe accidentally sat on you? That would certainly explain why you can't stand straight, but not that becoming bruise on your face. Hmm, perhaps it is rather the work of some sensible girl turning down your not so subtle sexual advances?"

Ron snickered contently as he watched Malfoy's face go from pure white to a sickening pink tinge.

"You'd better watch your tongue, Weasel," Malfoy spat, "or your good for nothing Muggle loving father might suddenly find himself unemployed." He chortled contently and Ron felt his blood start boiling. "I shudder to think what that would do to your family's dismal economic situation," Malfoy continued. "I fear the result might be even shabbier robes and a seventh mortgage on that shack you call a house."

Malfoy was smiling evilly despite his awkward position clasping the wall. "On a brighter note it would probably work wonders on your plump mother's figure. Less food might agree with her, don't you think?"

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. For the second time that day a furious fist made contact with Malfoy's jaw. The only difference was that this time the blow was distinctly harder. Despite all the encounters Ron and Malfoy had had over the years, they'd never fought like this before. The only incident that came close was that time in first year when Quirrel had been jinxing Harry's broom during a Quidditch match.

But they weren't eleven anymore and the nature of this clash was completely different. Despite his disadvantage Malfoy still managed to get in a few good punches before Ron lost interest in the tight fistfight and threw his by now bleeding opponent several feet down the corridor. Malfoy landed ungracefully on his bum, and Ron couldn't help laughing. He looked ridiculous with the blond hair in absolute disarray, a bruised and bloody face and his limbs sticking out in odd angles.

Ron's moment of joy regretfully only lasted for a split second. Taking into account the severe beating Malfoy had just undergone, Ron was amazed at how fast he was able to draw his wand. The look on his face was not too friendly either and Ron quickly made a grab for his own wand. A split millisecond later Ron became painfully aware of the fact that it wasn't in his belt as it should be. It was somewhere it most definitely shouldn't be. In Malfoy's left hand...

Damn that sneaky Slytherin worm! He must have grabbed it during our little wrestling match, Ron concluded while frantically searching his brain for possible ways of escaping this situation without hex marks covering his entire body. So far his prospects looked rather dim.

"Not so cocky anymore, are you Weasel?" Malfoy sneered as he slowly (and not without pain Ron happily noticed) got to his feet, both wands pointing directly at Ron. "What's the first rule in any fight or duel?" Malfoy lifted an incredibly colourless eyebrow and shook his head. "Never leave your wand exposed, without it you're chanceless."

Ron swallowed hard. He absolutely hated it when Malfoy was right. And what was he supposed to do now?

"Prepare to be hexed beyond anything you've ever experienced, Weasel. And I promise it'll be worse than coughing up a few measly slugs." Malfoy raised his wand to duelling position ready to fire. As in slow motion Ron watched Malfoy's lips forming the first syllable of the curse, the word ready to roll of his tongue and give the wand the appropriate instructions. His own reaction came on instinct. Although his mind knew it was quite fruitless saying the words without his wand, he still found himself raising his arm and screaming out the stunning spell.

"Stupefy!"

His voice filled the entire corridor, the sound ricocheting of the walls creating an echo of the spell. Ron felt the power of the spell streaming through his arm, and with astonishment he witness light pouring out of nowhere hitting Malfoy square in the chest. He was out cold before he hit the floor.

Completely gobsmacked Ron stood rooted to the spot for several seconds, not really believing what had just happened. There honestly were some rather peculiar things happening to him these days no doubt about that. He had no idea how or why, but he was seriously beginning to like it. Especially when it got him out of scrapes with gits like Malfoy.

For the second time that day, thundering applause from portraits all along the corridor followed a Gryffindor student as Ron Weasley continued on his way towards the Library. He still had to find Lavender...

* * *

The Great Hall - lunchtime

Despite the fact that he was completely surrounded by cheerful and boisterous Gryffindors, Harry still felt somewhat out of place and lonely as he helped himself to the mouth-watering lunch that lay before him. To his immediate right Dean and Seamus were busy retelling the horror of Divination to the ever-annoying Creevey brothers and across the table the Weasley twins were doing their usual double comedy act leaving most of the students in tears of laughter. Harry however had no idea whatsoever what the joke was all about (although it seemed to involve pears for some bizarre reason). Truthfully he was more interested in finding out why exactly both his two best friends had deserted him.

Ron had sped off like a bright red steam engine straight after Divination without so much as a word or gesture to indicate what he was up to. Harry suspected it had something to do with Lavender though and couldn't help hoping that Ron managed not only to find her but also break up with her before afternoon lessons began. How anyone could be so annoying was a complete mystery to Harry. And even more baffling was the fact that Seamus actually appeared to be smitten with her. Well, there was no accounting for taste that much was certain.

Harry furrowed his forehead in puzzlement. And where could Hermione be? He hadn't seen her since they had parted ways after Potions and was quite surprised not to find her at the table when he arrived. She was normally promptly on time for any appointment and that also included events such as lunch. She rarely skipped a meal, but on the occasions she did it was usually in favour of a rendezvous with some mammoth book in the library.

She hadn't mentioned anything about that earlier though, Harry mused as he helped himself to baked beans and toast, but then again she hadn't said much at all that day. Come to think of it she hadn't acted very Hermione-like at all that morning. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet and hadn't said much at all aside from gulping up ridiculously complex potion concoctions much to Snape's obvious dismay. She'd even neglected to tell off Ron for the (even for him) abnormal amount of swear words he'd produced after having received a most unjust detention. Harry made a mental note to talk to her later. Obviously the ball-incident was still bothering her to some extent.

George had obviously just delivered the punch line of their story, and Harry mirthfully watched Katie Bell spraying Alicia Spinnet with pumpkin juice. Apparently she'd been unable to swallow properly before laughter had overtaken her. Fred and George were beside themselves with glee and were currently doing what looked suspiciously like the Macarena.

For some strange reason this peculiar dance act made Harry think of another peculiar creature, namely Dobby. Mentally scolding himself for not remembering the elf before, Harry made a hasty decision to visit the oddball straight away. Hastily he gathered a pile of food into a large napkin and nicked a bottle of pumpkin juice straight out of Dean's hand. Swiftly he exited the Great Hall and headed for the Hospital Wing.

It felt strangely good climbing the stairs knowing that for once he wasn't heading towards Madam Pomfrey's domain because he or his friends were in a bad shape. They'd spent far too much time in there for Harry's liking.

It took quite a bit of pleading and begging on Harry part before he was finally allowed into the Hospital Wing. When Madam Pomfrey discovered Harry hovering outside in the corridor, she'd promptly launched into a long rant about how he was the most accident prone wizard she'd ever come across, and that he really should just take up permanent residency in the Infirmary. She did however become considerably more agreeable after realizing that Harry was there simply as a visitor and for once had no need for any medical treatment himself.

Three seconds after entering the ward Harry was seriously regretting his decision to visit.

"Harry Potter!!"

The squeaky voice of Dobby the house elf echoed down the hospital wing long before Harry had even located the little creature. Following the rapidly growing volume of Dobby's happy outburst he soon discovered the elf's whereabouts and somewhat reluctantly made his way over to his bedside. An encounter with Dobby was always a strenuous affair and judging by the elf's behaviour, today was by no means an exception.

Dobby was currently bobbing ecstatically up and down on top of his bedspread and there was generally very little about the elf's demeanour that suggested he had suffered a heavy blow to the head just days ago.

"Harry Potter has come to see Dobby! Harry Potter has taken time out of his busy schedule to visit a measly house elf. Oh the nobility!"

By the time Harry had made it over to the bed and presented him with the food he'd brought, the little creature had broken into heavy sobs of joy and had flung himself down on the bed causing it to squeak horribly.

"Hi Dobby," Harry said forcing a smile and trying very hard to sound soothing in hope of calming the hysterical elf. "How are you?"

It didn't make the slightest difference. "Oh, the kindness of Harry Potter is almost as great as his bravery!" Dobby wailed loudly as more tears cascaded down his cheeks. "He inquires into the health of a mere servant. How benevolent and kind of him!"

It didn't take long before the racket attracted the attention of Madam Pomfrey. She gave Harry one of her sternest looks as she hurried over to the hysterical elf obviously thinking that he was deliberately upsetting her patient. Jointly they did their best to soothe the house elf but only after the matron had forced a spoonful of Calming-Potion down Dobby's throat did his squeaking subside to a somewhat bearable level.

"Dobby should be fetching Harry Potter food, sir," Dobby wept weakly while the Matron firmly tucked him back under the blankets and gave him a quick once over.

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry answered calmly taking a seat next to the bed. "You're injured, surely no one expects you to prepare and serve food when hospitalised."

At this Dobby again started shredding tears but this time with less noise and force. After forcing a piece of cup cake down his throat it subsided and eventually stopped. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and finally began questioning the elf about the night of the New Years Ball.

"Oh yes," Dobby confirmed solemnly as Harry inquired about the Dark Wizard. "Dobby did indeed feel the presence of Darkness in the corridors of Hogwarts that night." The elf shuddered visibly and shook his head in disbelief. "How such a foul person managed to enter the castle Dobby does not know, but there is no doubt: A follower of You Know Who was there that night."

Big frightened eyes met Harry's. "Did you see him? Is there anything at all you remember that might be of significance so that he or she can be identified?"

Harry held his breath as he anxiously waited for Dobby's answer. Clues of any kind, however small and insignificant they might seem was more than welcome. If there really was a traitor among them, Harry was dead set on finding him.

His heart sank when Dobby shook his head. "No, Dobby did not see the dark wizard, sir. Dobby did not dare look out of the closet he was hiding in." He hung his head avoiding Harry's eyes. "Dobby is a coward, not at all brave like Harry Potter."

Shameful tears dripped down on the bedspread and Harry felt his heart aching for the poor fellow. "That's quite alright, Dobby," he said soothingly and awkwardly patted the elf on a bony shoulder. "Even though you didn't see anything, at least you sensed something, didn't you? Elves have rare and strong powers that way, don't you? Powers wizards and witches don't possess?"

Dobby nodded eagerly wiping a few tears away. "Oh yes, that is quite true. Though we never brag or speak loudly of this. Elves are not to outshine wizards in any way, it is not our place." Harry scoffed at this. Honestly, this elves-are-not-as-good-as-wizards attitude was beginning to irk him. Maybe he should pay more attention to Hermione's SPEW-crusade in the future?

"Like Dobby told the great Dumbledore, Dobby sensed the presence of dark magic and dark intentions long before he heard footsteps heading his way. That way Dobby had plenty of time to hide in the linen closet." Harry nodded eagerly hoping Dobby could tell him more about the wizard in question. "He cast a spell, powerful spell that Dobby had never heard of. Dark spell, it was too." The elf looked positively shaken and Harry felt somewhat guilty for making him retell this once again. Clearly he was not particularly comfortable being the centre of attention like this. Harry could certainly relate to that.

"Yeah, Dumbledore told me that," Harry said and Dobby visibly relaxed upon hearing this. "What I was wondering however was if you perhaps noticed something, anything really, that could give us an idea as to this Dark Wizards identity. I mean, are you positive it was a wizard or could it been a witch? Did you get a glimpse of this person; did he perhaps have a limp or something like that?"

Anxiously he awaited Dobby's answer. Harry somehow felt certain that this person was in fact the same as in his dreams about Voldemort. And that again meant it was someone he knew. And that thought was nothing short of terrifying,

Disappointment hit him moments later when Dobby gloomily shook his little head making his ears flap uncontrollably. "Dobby didn't see anything. Dobby is so sorry, Harry Potter," the elf exclaimed tearfully. "Dobby is a most cowardice elf, a shame for his kind, sir. Not at all brave and courageous like Harry Potter." A muffled sob escaped him and shamefully he hid his head under the blanket.

"Oh, Dobby that is not true at all!" Harry was beside himself. Talking to this poor little fellow was not easy as he had to alternate between comforting and stopping him from physically injuring himself every ten seconds. He was such a little drama queen!

Dobby finally emerged from the blanket after Harry had reassured him numerous times that hiding from danger really was a very sensible thing to do. After blowing his nose into a large chequered handkerchief Dobby finally agreed to continue on his story.

"Dobby is however certain that it was a wizard." This was said with such absoluteness to it that Harry felt no need to question it. This meant that they probably could rule out any female students and teachers. Harry sighed. At least that was something.

Harry was just about to excuse himself when Dobby suddenly grabbed hold of his robes. Yanking at them frantically the elf was once again back to his frantic bobbing on top of his bedcover. Big yellow eyes practically shone with excitement and Harry felt his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly. "What is it?" he asked hopefully. Dobby stopped bobbing and looked intently at Harry.

"Dobby just remembered something, Harry Potter sir. Not only did Dobby sense the presence of dark intentions and evil that night. Dobby also picked up on something else, something that didn't quite fit with the evilness..."

Harry was holding his breath. "What then?"

Dobby inched closer to Harry so that their noses were almost touching. Big eyes looked directly into Harry's. "Insecurity," Dobby whispered dramatically.

"Insecurity?" Harry questioned baffled. Dobby nodded his head solemnly. "Yes, Harry Potter. The wizard was definitely feeling some insecurity about his mission. Insecurity and guilt, almost as if he wasn't quite convinced he was doing the right thing..."

A dark wizard with a guilty conscience? Now Harry had heard it all!

* *

*

Harry left the infirmary a few minutes later his head filled with new questions. Dobby had made it clear that it definitely was a wizard - that was at least something. But the information about him being insecure and a bit guilty as well was quite frankly both confusing and a bit, well frustrating. It suggested that the traitor was someone that had recently been recruited, and that the person still harboured some doubt about his decision.

Harry was torn. On the one hand it suggested that this wizard perhaps wasn't completely lost to the good side yet. But on the other hand, Harry mused, this also suggested it could be anyone - and not just your obvious badass candidates such as Slytherins.

A quick time spell told Harry he still had twenty minutes left of his lunch break (he still hadn't gotten around to replacing his broken watch) and as he walked slowly back towards the Great Hall he pondered how to best make use of it before Charms started. As he walked he glanced at the portraits covering the walls. Most of them were snoozing happily as always, and Harry amused himself with watching the barmy knight Sir Cardogan sneaking in and out of frames with his little fat pony trotting lazily behind him.

It was as if someone had suddenly flicked on a dozen bright lights simultaneously in Harry's mind. The portraits! Of course!

He whirled around and ran towards the corridor where Dobby had stumbled upon the Dark Wizard. It was time to interrogate the portraits!

Twenty minutes later Harry slumped into his usual seat next to Ron in the Charms classroom too preoccupied to notice the bruises forming on Ron's face or his subdued mood, Lavender's amusement or Hermione's uncharacteristic giggles.

The portraits had been able to shed little if any light at all on the events of the night. As it turned out The Fat Lady's gossipy friend Vi had apparently thrown a large New Years bash in her frame, and the few portraits that had been present at the time of the dark wizard's arrival had been either to tipsy or to drowsy to give a good description of the perpetrator.

Harry swore silently as Professor Flitwick directed their attention to the chapter on domestic charms. Only one of the portraits seemed to have been in a somewhat sober condition that evening and of course that was an old beardy warlock with exceptionally bad eyesight. All he could tell with certainty was that three wizards, all with shockingly red hair had rushed passed him at interval, all seemingly upset. Not that this was helping Harry in any way. Obviously the warlock had seen Percy fleeing in panic from Millicent, Ron fleeing from his embarrassing snog-show and Charlie, Fred or George fleeing for some other strange reason that Harry was quite happy to know nothing about.

As Neville managed to completely soak Professor Flitwick after mispronouncing the Dishwashing Charm much to the other students' amusement, Harry was miles away in thought. He couldn't really picture either Fred or George running down corridors in an upset state. They'd been very much present in the Great Hall the entire time Harry had been there and nothing about their mood had seemed downcast or troubled. In fact Harry couldn't remember ever seeing them more upbeat.

This led Harry's thoughts back to Charlie. He'd acted awfully strange that night he and Ron had bumped into him in the dungeons. Harry hadn't really given it much thought before now, but every now and then Charlie had been acting a bit - off. Could it had been him running along that particular corridor that night? Had he seen something? Had he told Dumbledore? And if it had been him, what had made him upset?

Harry groaned. It was all just speculations and what was worse - he had no idea how to go about verifying or dismissing them. And it annoyed him to no end.

Library - right before Charms

Ron was still fuming after his run in with Malfoy when he entered the Library. A stern glare from Madam Pince told him that this was also showing on his face, and smiling sheepishly at her he did his best to push any angering thoughts about Slytherin scum of his mind for the time being. It seemingly did the trick. A curt nod from the librarian clearly granted him permission to enter and he hastily trotted past her scanning the vast room for any sign of Lavender.

Sighing with both relief and dread Ron spotted her sitting hunched over a small table in the very back of the room. Fighting back the big dot of cotton that suddenly seemed to have appeared in his mouth, he walked over to her. His mouth was dry, he had no idea what to say, his hands were sweating profusely and his heartbeat was not as steady as he wished it to be. But there was no going back - it had to be done.

"Lavender?"

Flinching at the sound of his own squeaky voice Ron stopped awkwardly next to her not really knowing whether he should just keep standing or sit down. Not that he had any choice in the matter - he couldn't have moved his feet even if he wanted to. Not with Lavender glaring at him like that. She didn't have to say anything. The look said it all. It was filled with hurt and contempt. Ron felt like a stinking pile of manure.

"Uh, I just wanted to say that I'm, uh, you know, eh..."

Ron never got further in his apology. Lavender had slapped him - hard. The smack echoed around the library. Then there was silence. And then Lavender started shouting.

And boy could she yell! Knowing he deserved every bit of profanity and insult hurled at him, Ron let her shout and scream without interruption. Both the verbal and the physical abuse were truly earned. There was no denying the fact that he'd toyed with her feelings. True he hadn't done so intentionally, because how was he honestly supposed to know she fancied him? But then again he'd never fancied her in the slightest, so kissing her in the first place had been a bastardly thing to do.

"...and that's just plain disrespectful!"

Lavender's tirade stopped just as suddenly as it had begun. Ron had been busy studying his shoes (they'd still not quite recovered from stepping in that colouring potion during detention) to avoid looking at her while she'd been telling him off. It took in a couple of seconds to pluck up his courage to look up and when he finally did Ron was met with a miserable sight. Lavender was crying silently, her normally perfect face covered in red blotches and her robes in complete disarray. Ron felt like giving himself a detention with Filch.

"The thing is," Lavender whispered barely audible. "I really liked you. I was so happy when you asked me, despite the fact that my subconscious kept telling me it was only one-sided." She dried her tears, leaned back in her chair and looked directly at him. Ron squirmed.

"I know you think I'm really dense, Ronald Weasley, but I see more than you think. I'm not just another busty air headed girl, although I guess that's what most people see, or chose to see anyway." She huffed as she said this. "If you hadn't kissed me that night I never would have acted the way I've done the last couple of days... You know, following you around like a lovesick puppy, arranging romantic tarot readings..."

Swallowing hard Ron decided it was time to show some sort of remorse.

"I'm terribly sorry, Lavender," he began, his voice quivering a little more than he wanted it to. "I honestly never intended to lead you on like that..." He swallowed hard. "I never really meant to kiss you, but somehow..."

Ron never got any further because Lavender chose that moment to rise from her chair. After straightening her hair, she hastily gathered her books and tucked them into her bag. Turing towards Ron he was surprised to see her almost smiling at him.

"You don't have to finish that sentence, Ron. I think I know why you did it." She winked at him and Ron felt an unauthorised blush spread across his face.

Smirking broadly now Lavender pushed passed him only to pause a few yards in front of him. "Well," she said impatiently. Ron gave her his most dull witted look and she actually laughed. "Are you coming to Charms or not?" Ron just stared at her like she'd just grown two additional heads.

"Eh, does this mean that you, like forgive me?"

Lavender shrugged. "Why not, now that I've slapped you around the face I actually feel much better." Ron took a tentative step towards her, not quite convinced that several days of hell now seemed to have come to an end.

"So this means that we're friends again?" he asked disbelievingly. "Just friends, that is." Lavender tossed her hair back and smiled her most dazzling smile.

"Yes you twit, now come on or we'll be late."

Still with a somewhat bemused expression plastered all over his freckled face, Ron followed her. That hadn't been so bad after all...

Two desks further up and one bookshelf to the right, Hermione Granger stood transfixed, the large book on Ancient Runes still propped open on the same page that she'd just started reading when she'd seen Ron entering the library. For obvious reasons Hermione barely made it to Charms on time that day. The only thought playing giddily on her mind as Professor Flitwick browsed them through a selection of household charms was this: Ron didn't fancy Lavender after all!

* * *

Gryffindor common room - later that evening:

Harry was smirking broadly as Ron finished retelling the horrors of his day.

"Hey, what's with the smirk?" Ron asked stonily while gently rubbing his battered chin. "Do you find my facial injuries entertaining in some way, because if you do I'd be delighted to arrange for your own set of bruises?" Mock seriously he clenched his fist in Harry's direction.

Pretending to quiver Harry ducked behind a pillow and Ron muttered "pitiful" before both boys burst into laughter.

"Well, all things considered it wasn't such a bad turn out after all, was it though?" Harry enquired still smiling. "After all you did get the pleasure of hexing Malfoy into oblivion and you somehow, miraculously I might add, managed to not only break up with Lavender but also stay in her good graces."

Ron looked quite self-satisfied as he leaned back into the chair pretending to remove a single bothersome piece of dust from his robes. "Yeah, I'm good aren't I?"

Harry simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Actually boy wonder, we should complete our weekly task of making up fake predictions for Divination." Ron groaned in disgust. "Come on dunderhead, get your books," Harry admonished in a striking imitation of Hermione and Ron reluctantly obliged. A few minutes later they were both engrossed in the art of making things up, a skill they'd almost perfected by now.

Harry was however a little distracted. The reason was about five feet tall, had longish red hair, the biggest and brightest pair of brown eyes he'd ever seen and was sitting way to close for him not to be sidetracked.

Since the New Years Ball he'd thought about her almost constantly. The way it had felt to dance so close to her... He felt himself drift away into another daydream and quickly snapped his attention back to "Unfogging the future, chapter 23: Palm-reading" in hopes of finding some inspiration for explaining why his lifeline had a funny sort of side branch just about halfway through.

It was no use. In next to no time his thoughts were back on Ginny. He'd asked her about the funny comment she'd made about watching out for rain at Quidditch practice that day. Harry couldn't be quite sure of course, but he was fairly certain that she'd been feeding him a blatant lie when she'd said that she'd seen Peeves stocking up on water balloons when she went to the bathroom. Why not tell him so outright without resorting to strange riddles? Ginny's sixth sense was seriously starting to unnerve him.

"Harry?"

Harry literally jumped at the sound of her voice. Was it real or was he imagining this? He turned his head and met her gaze. She was standing next to the table he and Ron was working on, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Harry thought she looked divine.

Obviously Ron didn't share this notion. He looked up from his parchment, clearly not too happy about the interruption. "What do you want?" he asked rudely.

"Excuse me, I wasn't aware that you too answered to the name Harry," Ginny said sarcastically. Ron just glared. "Witty, Ginny, really witty" was his only comment before he turned back to his mock-predictions.

Harry shrugged apologetically but Ginny just swatted his arm.

"Don't mind that git," she said more than loud enough for Ron to hear. He made a barking sound but didn't bother retorting. She rolled her eyes and Harry laughed.

"What's up?" he asked casually indicating that she was welcome to sit down. She remained standing however, continuing to shift her weight from foot to foot in a mesmerizing way.

"I'm off to bed in a tick, it's just that..." She trailed of looking as if she was arguing with herself whether or not to say whatever she'd come over to say. "What?" Harry asked curiously. Biting her lip she reluctantly continued. "It's just that I think perhaps you should change your quill..."

"My quill?" Harry gaped at her. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, that was not among them. Ginny blushed slightly and nodded her head. "Yeah, it looks as if it's about to leak... Wouldn't want you to ruin your homework over a faulty quill now would I?"

As if on cue the quill Harry was holding started dripping large drops of black ink all over his Divination homework.

"Oops, too late," Ginny said with a strained smile and turned to leave. Harry was baffled. Again! It was happening again. This just couldn't be a coincident now could it?

Ginny was halfway to the stairs when he called after her. She stopped, turned and looked expectantly at him. Does she look nervous? Harry wondered.

"What was that Ginny?" he asked. "For the umpteenth time you've managed to warn me before something small or big is about to happen. It started with bludgers, mugs of hot chocolate and water balloons and now leaky quills. How do you know? It's almost scary..."

By now Ron had tore his attention away from his homework and was looking equally curious as Harry was. Hermione, who'd just entered the common room with a fresh batch of library books in her arms, had also caught the tail of Harry's query. Ginny was looking pale and uncomfortable. After a moment of silence she finally spoke.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't explain it..." And then she turned and fled up the stairs to her dormitory.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged bemused looks. None of them had noticed that Max, the insufferable exchange student had also been witnessing the exchange. He was now tittering mirthfully by the fire, sporting a bottle of Butterbeer in one hand and a Quidditch magazine in the other.

"Funny little thing that Ginny," he said jokingly shaking his head. Ron looked as if he wanted to give the prat a thorough lecture about how his sister was not in any way to be addressed as a "thing" but the German's next comment made them all freeze as if petrified.

"She seems to have a frightfully accurate sixth sense about you, Harry old lad. She's almost Strinxish, isn't she?"

Harry, Hermione and Ron gasped in perfect unison and whirled towards the seventh year. "What exactly do you mean by that?" Hermione asked breathlessly, the large pile of books and parchments pooling down around her ankles.

"Yeah?" Ron ventured curiously. "What exactly do you mean by Strinxish?"

Max shrugged and twirled the by now empty bottle of Butterbeer bottle nonchalantly between his fingers. "It's just something my grandmother used to say whenever someone predicted or cleverly guessed what would happen. It's just an old expression, not an insult or anything..."

He never got further in his explanation. Bewildered Max watched the three friends whirl around and run towards the portrait hole.