Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

By Moon Weasley

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Connecting dots

Hermione was at what felt like her wits end.

She'd been at St. Mungo's hospital attending to her injured parents for almost a fortnight, kipping each night on a spare cot in her father's room. The mattress was hard and lumpy and the food not even fit to feed rodents, yet still here she was. It had felt right staying on after Harry and Ron had been forced to Floo back to school. After all it was her fault that they'd been attacked and the least she could do was to help them through the difficult healing process.

Now however her opinion had changed dramatically. Though her mom or dad was anywhere near fully healed, Hermione fought to succumb to the slightly claustrophobic feeling she got as she glanced around the uninspiring waiting room. She desperately wanted to leave the place; simply pack her belongings and catch the first available Portkey out of there. At least then she would be able to fully concentrate on revising for the OWL exams. That is if one Ron Weasley didn't distract her too much...

Sensing movement, Hermione turned her head and caught sight of yet another set of ghastly lime green robes whirling past her. She fought the urge to dispense the equally ghastly lunch she'd just forced down onto the well-worn linoleum floor in the waiting room. The floor however was spared as Hermione averted her eyes from the sprinting Healer and forced her attention back to the door in front of her. Her mother was currently undergoing her daily check-up and as per usual Hermione had been shooed most unceremoniously out of the room. Not that she particularly minded, not at all actually.

The shock of learning that both her parents had been severely injured during Voldemort's massive attack had kept her numb for several days. Her mother's body had been mangled almost beyond magical repair, and her father... Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and curled up in the chair, hugging herself tightly. It still hurt to think about his tragic fate. He was lost somewhere deep within himself, his body unscratched but his mind forever scarred.

The door to her mother's room opened softly and Healer Floyd (blessedly lime green free for once) stepped noiselessly through and shut the door behind him with a gentle thud. Hermione looked at him questionably but he just shook his head sadly and continued down the corridor, the slight squeak of his comfortable shoes echoing of the bare walls.

Hermione fought the urge to scream. Her mother was just so - infuriating!

It had taken almost six days of foul potions, stinging balms and other dubious looking concoctions before her body had responded to the treatment. The attending Healer had explained that this was quite natural seeing as she was a Muggle and thus had none or at least very small quantities of magic in her blood. The magical remedies were constructed to heal magical beings after all. This explanation had sounded perfectly reasonable and quite logical to Hermione but her mother had been of another opinion.

Not that this should have surprised her, Hermione thought dryly rolling her eyes in the direction of her mother's room. She had always been that way, believing that she was right; that her solutions were always the best and most sensible. How her father had managed to live with such a woman for so many years was quite frankly far beyond Hermione's comprehension. He'd always been of a more easy-going and down to earth nature and it was all quite puzzling how two so fundamentally different personalities could form a relationship, but then again that was their problem, not hers.

The point was however, that her mother had reasoned that according to the Falcon-Halward Theorem (Hermione had never heard of this and suspected her mother had made it all up just to prove her point) the amount of magic in her bloodstream shouldn't have a negative effect on the healing process. In fact she claimed the opposite should've applied because the magical medication designed for a magical person really should've worked as an overdose on her and healed her twice if not thrice as fast. And since it took six days before she'd even begun healing, Hermione's self-righteous mother had most pompously concluded that magic was in fact quite a waste of time and energy.

And that's where they were now, arguing about magic. Hyacinth Granger had immediately demanded that she and her husband were to be relocated to a Muggle hospital for further treatment. The Healers and Hermione had naturally protested but she had stood her ground. Healer Floyd's shaking head had just informed Hermione that her mother had gotten her will - again.

And in a way it would be almost a relief, Hermione thought with just the barest hint of guilt, getting rid of her mother. It was the removal of her dad that was causing her protests. Crucatius-induced coma, if you could even call it that, was not something any Muggle hospital was equipped to handle. They'd furtively tried to explain this to Hermione's mother but it was as if she'd gone purposefully deaf whenever the subject was brought up. And that's why Hermione was so distraught.

Her dad was the first Crucatius victim since the first Voldemort war and in the years since a small but dedicated group of Healers had researched various methods of treating this condition. And if the research papers she'd been granted access to where anything to go by, Hermione actually believed they might be onto something. The problem was however that if he was removed, the treatment that had barely begun would be terminated and her dad back at square one.

Feeling her anger rebuilding Hermione took a few steadying breaths and reached for her bag. She pulled out a large stack of parchments, all in the same messy scrawl and felt her heart swell with what she'd recently recognised as deep affection, maybe even love...

She opened the most resent of Ron's letters and scanned it for the umpteenth time that day. Things sounded blessedly normal back at Hogwarts and Hermione longed to be back in the castle. As usual Ron moaned about their insane amount of homework, the cruelty that was Snape, the foulness of Slytherins and again about homework. But that was just Ron and Hermione missed him dearly.

He and Harry had been lifesavers these past weeks, owling her notes, assignments and homework on a daily basis knowing how utterly important it was for her to keep up with her studies and revisions. The OWLs were just weeks away after all. She'd been astonished to see that Harry had even taken notes in History of Magic, a near impossible feat Hermione knew after having watched the boy struggling and repeatedly failing to stay awake for more than five minutes. The notes were actually quite good too. Not up to her own standards of course, but passable none the less.

Later Ron had let it slip that Harry had been forced to take a double dose of Fred and George's latest invention On-The-Ball Bonbons to make it through Binns' endless droning without falling into a deep slumber. As a prefect Hermione naturally couldn't condone the use of a stimuli of such questionable nature, but even though her hand literary quivered with the urge to pen her best friends a very stern and admonishing reply, she'd decided against it. The gesture was just too sweet to scold.

But if she'd been surprised to receive notes on History of Magic, she'd been positively floored when Hedwig had delivered a stack of parchments containing notes from Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Thinking that Ron and Harry had probably wheedled Padma Patil of perhaps Michael Corner into copying their notes, her heart had almost stopped beating when she noticed that every single parchment was filled with Ron's rather sloppy penmanship.

Knowing that he, of his own accord, sat through lesson upon lesson on subjects he knew nothing about was still filling Hermione with the most glorious of emotions. It didn't matter that the notes more often that not made absolutely no sense whatsoever. It was rather the gesture that got to her, that and the many quirky comments he kept dotting the margins with. More often than not it was these notes that got her through the day.

Hermione let the letter drop to her lap and made a futile attempt at reorganising her messy ponytail. After battling with the bushy madness that was her hair for a few minutes she gave up and let her hands drop dejectedly back to the creased parchment.

Ron hadn't once written her a truly personal letter. The daily owl always brought a small note with the homework and notes, and usually it had been written by Ron. But it always bore the air of being from both him and Harry and sometimes Harry had even added a line or two. It was always signed, Ron and Harry and not even once had Ron written anything that would suggest they were more than just friends now.

Until today.

She picked up the letter again and let her finger trail over the slightly smudged line at the bottom of the parchment, most likely jotted down hastily before tying it to Hedwig so that Harry wouldn't see it.

I miss you.

Seeing these words again Hermione felt a surge of determination and with newfound energy she gathered her things. With everything neatly packed she squared her shoulders and walked to her mother's door. The sooner she was shipped away to the Muggle world, the sooner she could return to Hogwarts!

* * *

Ron was suffering from a very severe case of itchy feet.

In fact all of Ron's limbs felt itchy and that's why he was still wide awake at almost three in the morning. He shifted around noisily trying fruitlessly to find a comfortable position or better yet a large vial of Sleeping Potion. So far he was failing miserably on both accounts.

"If you're going to wriggle around like a bloody Niffler on caffeine high all night, Weasley, do us all a favour and put a bloody Silencing Charm on your bed, will ya," Dean hissed sleepily two beds over and guiltily Ron muttered a muffled "Sorry".

Dean harrumphed and Ron thought he heard him mutter something about "wanking" or "wanker" before the hangings muffled out the sound of his voice, and he dearly hoped it was the latter because, damn he knew better than to engage in that kind of activity in a dorm full of other blokes without taking the proper precautions. Bloody Dean!

After a brief moment of fumbling frantically for his wand, Ron did as requested. With the Silencing Charm activated he continued wrestling his blankets feverishly but they proved as uncooperative as the garden gnomes back home at the Burrow. Ron ended up kicking them unceremoniously to the end of his bed. He was too hot for them anyway.

Ron was thinking about Hermione - and no certainly not in that way, thankyouverymuch! Not that him thinking about Hermione was particularly shell-shocking, considering she seemed to have taken up a constant lodging in his mind. Every bloody thing reminded him of her and it was really a wonder he managed to concentrate at all in class these days. Not that he ever had.

Ron missed her terribly, and not just the snogging (although that was a huge part of it). It was just so - weird - not having her around everyday, gloating about her latest off-the-charts mark, nagging him about homework or quoting something terribly bookish and boring from one of her many tomes. Hogwarts just seemed colder somehow with Hermione gone.

In short: he was a miserable sod desperately missing his girlfriend.

But was she really his girlfriend though? This was the question that had been plaguing him for the last couple of weeks. They'd never really discussed it and Ron didn't want to assume anything, especially if Hermione were to take it the wrong way.

They hadn't even told anyone about the fact that they now more often then not were engaged in heavy snogging-sessions whenever the opportunity presented itself, and therefore he couldn't really talk to anyone about this.

More than once Ron had come pretty close to actually spilling the beans to Harry, but so far he'd managed to keep a lid on it. Hermione might get her knickers in a twist if he went ahead and assumed she was his girlfriend without asking her first, but she'd be absolutely hell-bent if he were to go behind her back and reveal their little secret without her permission. Hermione Granger did not much like betrayals, Ron knew and he had no intentions of suffering through one of her scorching rages.

So out of consideration for his health Ron had therefore clamped his mouth shut. But she'd be back Hermione was scheduled to return the day after tomorrow and then everything would be just honky dory again. Or so he hoped.

Ron had owled her everyday since he and Harry returned, but though he'd tried on numerous occasions he'd never managed to pluck up the courage to send her a personal letter. He'd written many but to this date they still rested at the bottom of his trunk jammed inside a two year old Weasley jumper that he'd long since outgrown but his mother had still insisted he'd take along. Ron had resolved to send them if Hermione sent him a personal note, but just as he and Harry always sent a joint letter, the return letters were always addressed to them both.

Deep down inside Sensible-Ron knew Hermione was most likely equally as unsure of how to deal with this situation as he was. It was just too bad that Insecure-Ron yelled the highest completely drowning out Sensible-Ron's excellent reasoning. Insecure-Ron was by now seriously starting to wonder if perhaps the happy memories of soft kisses and bumping noses in various broom closets were simply figments of his overactive imagination and not real at all.

But today his resolve to wait until Hermione wrote anything even remotely vague about their status had crumpled. Just as he was about to fold up their daily letter for Hedwig to deliver he'd grabbed a quill and hastily dotted down three desperate words. Harry had looked at him oddly afterwards and if the heat coming of his face had been any indication to the colour of it Ron couldn't really blame him. But thankfully Harry hadn't commented on Ron's blazing ears (though Seamus certainly had, the tosser). Great lad, Harry. Best mate a bloke could ever wish for.

One more day though and Hermione would be back. Hedwig had returned just before he and Harry were getting ready for bed and Ron cringed thinking about his very childish and far from collected response to the news. Thank goodness none of their other dorm mates had been there at the time, otherwise they would've witnessed him letting out a triumphant whoop, followed by a (he suspected) far from graceful leap onto his four poster bed where he'd rounded off his little performance with an animated jig involving much flailing of arms.

When finished he'd collapsed on the bed, panting heavily and grinning like a Hufflepuff being awarded unexpected house points. It wasn't until Harry's messy hair and smirking face moved into view that Ron had remembered that he had an audience.

"Missed her, have you?" Harry had asked mischievously whereupon Ron had flushed crimson and begun stuttering incoherently. Harry had just laughed raucously, shaken his head and fetched his pyjamas.

"You've got it bad, mate," had been his parting words before he disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned a deeply mortified Ron had been buried deep under his covers, hangings firmly shut. He'd heard Harry snicker quietly as he climbed into his own bed.

Ron sighed. He just prayed Harry wouldn't bring the incident up again tomorrow. He wasn't ready for another heart to heart on the subject of Hermione, at least not without talking to the girl in question about de-classifying certain information. Yawning Ron nuzzled into his pillow. There was really no use worrying about that now. Daybreak was frighteningly close and he'd be a really grumpy sod if he didn't catch some shut-eye soon.

Another glance at the clock almost caused him to panic and Ron instantly decided to go with his last resort. Reluctantly he slipped onto the cold floor and padded over to his trunk. A few moments later he climbed back in, fetched the discarded blanket and made himself comfortable. With great determination Ron flipped open Hogwarts: A history at a random page and began reading. Three minutes later he was snoring loudly.

* * *

"Ron?"

Silence.

"Ron, mate you awake?"

Still only silence.

"Merlin's wand, has he gone bloody deaf?" Harry muttered darkly. He was currently hunched over at an awkward angle checking under his bed for any sign of his left sneaker. For some ruddy reason it had done a very inopportune disappearing act. All in all The Boy Who Lived was not in a good mood for a great many reasons.

"Ron, get moving, will you?"

Still nothing.

"Ron!" Harry counted silently to ten in hope of calming his rapidly escalating impatience. It didn't work.

"RON!"

Yet still there was no response. "Honestly!" Harry exclaimed Hermione-ishly and stomped over to Ron's bed. He pulled the hangings aside and glared impatiently at the sleeping form tangled in an intricate web of blankets. If Harry didn't have such bad news to share he would've laughed at the sight. Now however he proceeded to nudged Ron rather painfully in the chest.

"Wake up, you lazy git," he demanded but to his dismay he was simply awarded with a grunt, a roll and then more snoring. Frustration getting the better of him Harry grabbed hold of Ron's arm and with surprising strength yanked Ron halfway out the bed. That did the trick.

"Wassamatter?" Ron mumbled sleepily blinking blearily up at Harry. It looked like it hadn't fully dawned on him that he was now perched precariously on the very edge of the bed.

"Time to get up," was Harry's curt response. "Get dressed! I have something to tell you."

He threw a pile of Ron's notoriously wrinkled school clothes at him and chuckled mirthlessly as Ron yelped in surprise.

"'Tis better be good," the redhead muttered darkly. "Just because you're up at the crack of dawn, doesn't mean I have to."

Harry snorted. "It's way passed dawn, you idiot. In fact Transfiguration starts in about twenty minutes, so you better get a move on."

"Shite!" Ron scrambled to his feet, blankets still wrapped around his long body, and almost fell nose first into his trunk. "Why didn't you wake me before? Now I'm gonna miss breakfast!"

"I've been trying to wake you for ages, mate but apparently you sleep like the dead. I can't for the life of me understand how it's possible to snore through the insane racket that's been produced in here this morning." Harry took a deep breath.

"It all began with that annoying little twit Colin Creevey who stormed in here at the crack of dawn, screaming his throat sore, yapping on about a missing camera. Good riddance, I told him because I didn't particularly enjoy having those pictures of me and Eloise circulating the school. Apparently that was not the right thing to say because the midget threw a complete wobbly and launched into a very heated speech about the freedom of the press and such nonsense. As if Hogwarts even has a school paper! Seamus kicked him out eventually thank goodness. Then Dean had a major tantrum because someone's been tampering with his soccer posters - again. Of course that someone turned out to be Seamus and for a good fifteen minutes or so this very dormitory eerily resembled that of a battle zone."

Harry nodded towards the other end of the room where Dean and Seamus' beds were in complete disarray.

"Ah," Ron nodded with a smirk. "A good old fashioned pillow fight. Pity I missed it."

"Pity?" Harry croaked disbelievingly. "More like a sodding miracle if you ask me. I've never heard such ruckus since Parvati lost her earring down that large crate of Bubotuber pus a year ago."

Ron finished lacing up his shoe and brushed his fringe out of his eyes. His hair was getting long again.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," he suddenly exclaimed clapping a hand to his forehead. "Silencing Charm," he said gesturing towards his hangings. "Dean made me put one up last night. No wonder I haven't heard a thing."

Harry lifted one eyebrow and smirked knowingly. Ron instantly blushed crimson. "It's not like that," he stuttered hopelessly, something which only seemed to add to Harry's mirth. "He just thought I was making too much sound..."

"I can imagine," Harry interrupted with a wink. Ron groaned.

"You pervy sod, I was just having trouble sleeping, and was tossing and turning a lot, and apparently that was annoying Thomas, so..." He flailed his arms helplessly towards the hangings again and Harry burst out laughing.

"Say no more, mate. It really is the perfect way to cure insomnia, isn't it? You get all sleepy and sated and -"

"Oh shut your gob, Harry and let's get out of here!" a very red-faced Ron bellowed. He made a mad grab for his robes and donned them quickly heading for the door. "Didn't you have something to tell me?"

Harry instantly sobered. "Yeah I did. Let's get down to the common room and find a quiet spot."

Ron nodded and pulled opened the door. Harry suppressed a snicker. Ron had put his robes on inside out. Property of Ronald Bilius Weasley was embroidered in bright purple letters across his shoulders. He made a mental note to alert Ron of that before Malfoy caught sight of it...

* * *

Ron swallowed audibly.

"Okay, let me get this straight. Voldemort not only knows about..." He did a quick scan of the room to assure that no one was eavesdropping on them. "...what Neville told Snape about, er, that recipe and whatnot, but he's also in possession of them? How?"

Harry was attempting to massage his own shoulders. Nightmares like that always messed up his muscles like crazy.

"I don't know, mate," he answered wearily. "The dream didn't last as long as they usually do and all I really saw was Voldemort gloating to Wormtail and that hooded bastard about how he'd managed to swipe them from right under the Order's nose."

"But how's that possible?" Ron still looked floored by Harry's news. "I would've thought Snape had run directly to Dumbledore after he talked to Neville. Surely the Order wouldn't have waited to go get it, would they?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally. Ron bristled. "If so their bloody stupid if you ask me. And somehow I don't think they are. Could someone else have been listening in on Neville and Snape talking do you think?"

"Possibly," said Harry thoughtfully. "I most certainly was, and for all I know the corridor could've been littered with people donned in Invisibility cloaks. It's the most likely explanation, wouldn't you say?"

Ron grimaced and leaned heavily back into the chair. "I guess so, unless you count the possibility of Snape really being a two-timing bastard."

Harry chuckled. "You're never going to drop that, are you?"

Ron shook his head, grinning devilishly. "Nope, I believe I'll maintain my very firm notion that Snape most definitely shouldn't be trusted until the day when I'm presented with indisputable proof of his innocence."

"That long, huh?"

"Indeed."

The fell silent after that, both contemplating the information Harry had just presented. Harry shuddered slightly despite the roaring fire in the common room as he too fell back into his chair and closed his eyes. Instantly he was assaulted with images of the dream he'd had last night.

Voldemort's manic glee as he repeatedly gloated about his own brilliance in obtaining the long lost recipe and the ancient magical knife that was to be used when preparing the potion ingredients. If successfully brewed this potion could, if legend was to be believed, lead to Harry's untimely demise. It was a very terrifying thought, knowing that such a powerful weapon was in his ach-nemesis' hands. Harry still had no real clue how Voldemort planned to administer this potion but going by some of his earlier ploys it was likely to be both intricate and cunning. Harry expected no less.

One thing though Harry was certain of: They needed to unveil who the hooded betrayer was and fast. He had a very foreboding feeling that this person was the key to this whole mess. There were just so many loose ends, so many bits and pieces of information, and so many possible suspects that Harry was hard put to make any sense of it. Ron seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"It's a good thing Hermione returns tomorrow," the redhead suddenly blurted out. This statement was followed by a raised eyebrow from Harry and a pair of strawberry-red ears from Ron. To Harry's silent amusement Ron began stuttering. The poor boy really did have it bad. He just hoped they would get their thick heads out of the sand soon and talk to each other about it. A bloke could dream, couldn't he?

"I just mean, she would probably be loads better at seeing some kind of connection here. She's got the brains for details and stuff, but me and you mate are only good for the action-bits." Ron grinned sheepishly. "Correction: You're good at the action-bits, I just add colour. Literally."

"That's bullocks and I refuse to even dignify it with a comment," said Harry with an air of finality that made Ron blush even harder. "But I agree with you: Hermione would be good at this. But that doesn't mean we couldn't try to organise our thoughts. Get a head-start sort to speak."

And that's exactly what they did.

* * *

Ginny was slightly miffed. No scratch that. She was downright annoyed, that's what she was. She was not having a good month, far from it and now that Hermione was tucked away at St. Mungo's for goodness knew how long things had gone from bad to worse. It was murder being without a female confidante especially in times of trouble like this.

She scowled over to the corner where her good for nothing brother and Harry were huddled together over something that obviously was very secret if the hushed voices and uneasy demeanour was anything to go by. Prats the both of them she concluded with feeling as she slammed her History of Magic book shut with slightly too much strength causing several pages to drop to the floor. She glanced indifferently at the mess at her feet, huffed noisily in a last attempt to catch their attention. Unsurprisingly they continued ignoring her.

Ginny did the only sane thing and left the common room.

They'd been avoiding her for weeks now and it was starting to seriously worry her. At first it had just been Harry, and that she could even sort of understand. She had after all been acting quite, um, strange lately what with all those warnings she'd been giving him left and right.

Ginny silently cursed her damned over-protectiveness that had led her to actually warn the git. Logically she should've just let things run its course but unfortunately she'd been unable to control herself. It was all her mother's fault, Ginny concluded angrily as she all but ran down the many stairs towards the Entrance hall. She'd obviously inherited the urge to mollycoddle from her and she didn't much like it.

She needed air.

Ginny pushed the door open and stepped out into a beautiful spring day. It was a sure sign that exams were just around the corner because the lawns were practically deserted except for a scatter of first and seconds years playing what looked to be tag down by the lake. Ginny suddenly wanted to be twelve again. Twelve year olds didn't have worries like she did. Unless your name was Harry Potter of course but surely he was the exception that proved the rule.

Her visions were changing. Something was about to happen, she was certain of that but so far she hadn't Seen anything really worrying. But it was just a matter of time, perhaps as little as days. She didn't know exactly how she knew but at this point Ginny had given up trying to understand this thing that was happening to her. The best was simply to accept it and trust her instincts.

Ginny flopped down under a large birch tree with a heavy sigh. But knowing these things was one thing; acting on them was entirely different. Because when your gut feeling told you to crawl onto Harry's lap and snog him silly, it was honestly sort of difficult to take it seriously.

Ginny blushed. She'd Seen this just last week, but it still hadn't come to pass. Normally when she had a vision it was only a matter of hours or a day at the most before it occurred. Unless Harry had taken advantage of her while she was asleep, nothing even remotely close to that had happened and she couldn't really see it happening any time soon either. The bloke was avoiding her like the plague for Merlin's sake, and as if that wasn't enough now both Ron and Hermione had taken to doing the same.

Ron she could understand. He'd never been particularly enthusiastic about her joining their little tight trio. When Harry had started to exclude her, he'd most likely been only too thrilled to back him up. Bloody tosser.

The fact that Hermione also had begun cutting a wide berth around her before she'd been taken to St. Mungo's was in Ginny's opinion far more worrying. Hermione was brilliant, no doubt about that and Ginny knew they'd been searching high and low for more information about the Prophecy of the Strinx. It'd been weeks and weeks since she'd been included in any of their scheming and they might have come across something that had set Hermione's wheels in motion.

Ginny groaned loudly. Things had gotten out of hand, and she should just confess it all. It was the right thing to do, and she probably would have done so ages ago too if it weren't for that slightly embarrassing issue of love. She knew it was stupid fussing over it. Chances were this True Love stuff were just bullocks anyhow. Yet still she hesitated. Because what if it wasn't? What if Harry and she were meant to be together?

For what felt like the umpteenth time Ginny suppressed the urge to cry. This was really the crux of the matter, and had been ever since she'd first read it in that book. Sure, she'd been pining away for Harry since she was in nappies and she'd like nothing more than to have him realize he felt the same way about her.

But Ginny wanted him to come to this conclusion on his own. She didn't want to be the one to explain this to him; to tell him or rather demand him to love her. It wouldn't feel right, and knowing Harry he would probably do his best to love her, because he always did the right thing but damn Ginny didn't want his pity-prophesized love! She could never really trust that, and she would always wonder if it was real of just something convenient that helped in the fight against Voldemort.

But defeating Voldemort is a good reason to do this regardless of True Love or not!

Her inner voice had been telling her this for ages. Up to now she'd done a good job of ignoring it, but the voice of reason was getting louder by the day. She knew what she had to do, but still she wouldn't have minded some proof that this True Love thing was real. Her little test with Max hadn't exactly worked as planned and now she was stuck in a relationship with a guy she wasn't even sure she liked.

As if on cue a shadow suddenly fell over her face.

"Studying 'ard for the History of Magic exam, I see?"

Max. Speak of the devil.

"Hello, Max," Ginny said evenly offering a forced smile. "How are the NEWT preparations going?"

The tall boy standing over her laughed throatily before he flopped down beside her. Ginny fought to suppress a shudder. Lately she had trouble just being near him. His presences seemed to make her slightly nauseous, a result of her own guilt for using him she suspected.

"Ouch, that's cruel. NEWTs are nothing like they're rumoured to be. They're worse."

He leaned back on his elbows and grinned cheekily down on her. Ginny closed her eyes again. She couldn't even look him in the eyes. This had to end. Max didn't seem to notice her discomfort though and ploughed on about the nastiness of NEWTs.

"Summing it up," he concluded a while later, "I was in desperate need of a break, and what better way to distract a near fried brain than to spend some quality time with my beautiful girlfriend."

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Ginny gulped audibly. He'd come for a snog.

He gently leaned towards her and soon his lips were on hers, his tongue gently probing for entrance. Reluctantly she complied but soon Ginny felt her stomach churn uncomfortably and bile was starting to rise in her throat. She couldn't do this! She was about to be sick during a snog, but the nausea was suddenly so strong Ginny didn't have the power to push Max off her.

Just when she felt she couldn't keep in down any longer, Max pulled back of his own accord. Relieved Ginny rolled over on her side and retched. Nothing came up, but her body continued to convulse and shake for several minutes. It wasn't until she rolled back that she realized that Max wasn't lying next to her any more. Sitting up she soon spotted him. He was hunched over, clutching the birch and retching like mad.

Ginny watched with wide eyes as he struggled to stand and turned towards her. Wiping his mouth he looked at her with sad eyes.

"My mind tells me this is stupid, because I shouldn't feel this way about a girl I'm head over heels for. But the fact still remains that every time I'm close to you my stomach acts up."

Ginny felt her eyes grow wide.

"I make you sick?" she asked incredulously.

Max cringed at the bluntness of her words, but reluctantly he nodded. "I really like you, and my heart certainly skips a beat every time I see you, but yes - your presence does for some bizarre reason make my physically sick."

Ginny tuned out the rest of Max's ranting. Had she just received proof?

"Well."

"Well indeed."

Harry and Ron were crammed into the darkest and most secluded seats in the entire Hogwarts library staring down on a very ink stained and rumpled piece of parchment.

"It looks a little... unfinished," Ron commented unhelpfully. Harry snorted.

"You don't say?"

"I mean it's not really too detailed and it just seems awfully... short. You're the bloody Boy Who Lived, it seems like you should have more potential enemies than this."

"Gee thanks, Ron."
"Oh don't get all huffy on me, Harry. I mean that in the nicest way possible."

Harry waved off Ron's half-hearted explanation. He wasn't really offended, just terribly frustrated.

"Whatever," he replied wearily. "But I do agree with you. This list is definitely lacking something."

"Yeah, content for starters," Ron retorted cheekily, grinning lopsidedly as he pushed the offending parchment out of his sight.

"Very amusing, Weasley. It has content... to an extent anyway. It just needs -"

"More content?"

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. Lately he'd been having more and more urges to do so, especially around Ron. It was almost as if he on some level was channelling Hermione in her absent, a notion he didn't much like.

Ron for his part had begun trying to goad reactions from Harry the way he usually did with Hermione, resulting in one or two rather pathetic bickering matches. It was high time their bushy haired companion returned to school - for more than one reason!

"You're not helping, you know," he told Ron in a barely controlled tone of voice. Sensing that Harry wasn't particularly responsive to this kind of barbing, Ron wisely dropped the idiot-act.

"Sorry, but I can't help feeling that we've missed some points here. Because let's face it mate, we can't hold a candle next to Hermione when it comes down to details and strange patterns and such."

"I know," said Harry with a sigh. "Let's run through it one more time, yeah? Maybe we'll think of something else to add."

"Yeah, and Malfoy might dedicate his life to Hippogriff charity," said Ron sarcastically. Harry gave him a hard look and with unveiled reluctance Ron finally threw his arms in the air.

"Alright, another bloody run-through it is."

"Good boy!"

"Don't push it Potter and just bloody read already."

Smirking slightly Harry reached for the much harassed list and settled back into his seat with an air of supremacy that made Ron whip up a very naughty hand gesture.

"Such impatience, not to mention terribly rude. Tut tut, Weasley," Harry chided mockingly. Ron growled. "I might have to inform your mother of this behaviour, or perhaps even worse, Hermione."

"Do that and Voldemort would be the least of your worries," Ron deadpanned in a very threatening voice.

"Could make a pleasant sort of change," Harry contemplated musingly.

"Oh just get on with it, will you?" fired Ron exasperatedly. The conversation was clearly starting to rub him the wrong way. Knowing perfectly well that a wrongly-rubbed Weasley was an unpleasant experience to say the least Harry cleared his throat and forced his attention back to the parchment in front of him.

"Okay, we've deduced ("Fancy word, Harry!") that this betrayer could just as easily be an outsider as apposed to someone we know from inside the school. The passage into the forbidden forest that we discovered in Slytherin's Room does however suggest that it's someone that doesn't belong here at Hogwarts. It's definitely of more use to someone needing to sneak in unnoticed, although a student or a teacher for that matter could just as well use it to escape the grounds to meet up with Death Eaters or whatnot."

"Bottom line being that we need to look at candidates both inside an outside the castle. Honestly, Harry we've been through this before!" Ron was all but screaming at this point.

Harry nervously scanned the nearby vicinity for any sign of the beak-nosed librarian. Spotting her clear across the room harassing a bunch of very timid looking Hufflepuffs he relaxed back into his seat.

"Lucky sod, she could've stuck you in detention for week for violating her strict sound-limits, mate. You know she's got a thing for sticking the offenders with Filch."

"Oh I know alright," said Ron with a shudder. "I'll keep my tongue in check if you just bloody read, and like today!"

"Affirmed, Oh Red One," said Harry with a sloppy salute. He just barely managed to duck Ron's flying fist.

Skimming the page Harry fought the urge to crumple it and toss it out the window. He could all but hear Hermione tutting and harrumphing in his head telling him in no uncertain terms that their effort was pitiful at best. But at least it was a start he thought miserably. That had to count for something.

Betrayer: Possible candidates (some more likely than others, just being thorough!)

Wormtail

Pro

Con

Possible role:

If not friendly betrayer then why has he been inside the castle?

Fudge

Pro

Con

Ludo Bagman

Pro

Con

Max Strober

Pro:

Con

SNAPE

Pro

Con

Draco Malfoy

Pro

Con

"Well," Ron said thoughtfully leaning over the table to peer down on the parchment. "I'll bet my old dressrobes that Hermione will take one look at this, shake her head in that annoying know-it-all way she's got perfect since forever and then proceed to tear it to shreds and make us start this excruciating process from fucking scratch."

"Your dressrobes?" Harry asked incredulously. "What kind of pitiful bet is that?"

"The point is we've just spent an entire afternoon creating something that by tomorrow afternoon will be fire-food. And I'll through in a pair of woolly socks and last year's Weasley jumper to opt the stakes a little."

"Little being the key word in that sentence."

"Am I to understand that you're not taking the bet?" Ron asked evenly and Harry couldn't help but break out in loud guffaws.

"Too right I'm not! Lacy dressrobes and a pair of molten socks? That's a punishment, that's what that is!"

"Oh shite, now you've done it!"

Harry watched Ron go unusually pale. "What?"

"Get your shit together, now," said Ron frantically as he began shuffling books, parchments and quills into his book bag with brutal speed. Harry cringed as he watched him stuff his inkbottle down lastly, the lid forgotten on the table.

"Why?" asked Harry, looking thoroughly bewildered. Still he found himself copying Ron's frantic packing down to the lidless inkbottle.

"Pince!" Ron whispered shrilly with a very desperate head gesture.

"Bugger," said Harry.

"Run!" yelled Ron.

* * *

Hermione returned the next day at lunchtime. They weren't really expecting her until afternoon so it came as quite a shock to find her sitting primly at the Gryffindor table, Transfiguration book propped up against the Pumpkin pitcher, homework planner open in front of her, quill scratching away furiously at what later turned out to be a revision table (no shock there) and a forkful of cucumber salad forgotten in her left hand.

It was as if she'd never been gone. But then again not; at least not to Ron.

He'd been in a perfectly normal frame of mind considering that they'd just sat through a gruelling class of double Potions. Snape had been particularly gruesome that morning, deducting a scandalous amount of points for ridiculous things like "poor stirring-grip" (Harry, of course) and "annoying fringe". Poor Seamus, who's fringe had rubbed the Potion Master the wrong way, was forbidden to return until "the atrocious coiffure" had been attended to. Ron was seriously considering growing a floppy fringe of his own just to needle Snape and was in the process of roping Harry into doing the same when they stepped into the Great Hall.

And there she was.

Ron heard Harry laugh and vaguely registered him saying something about a hair growing charm or something to that effect, but his voice sounded awfully far away. In fact everything seemed to have faded out, sound and images both, except for one person.

It's just Hermione. For the sake of Godric there's no need to go all bodybinded on her!

Ron's brain and Ron's body were however clearly having some sort of communicational issues because his next actions were anything but natural. He watched as in slow motion Harry rushing towards Hermione giving the poor girl such a fright that she unintentionally sent the cucumber salady clad fork flying. Ginny later told him it had hit Goyle in the neck. Bloody brilliant Hermione was!

While Harry and Hermione exchanged what looked like animated greetings, Ron was struggling just to move. As Harry slipped into the seat across from her he thankfully felt some of his body control return and amazingly he managed to greet Hermione in a similar fashion, though decidedly more awkward. It didn't exactly help things that he managed to drop his book bag on Alicia's plate, drenching the poor girl in the remains of her lunch. Ron felt like Neville.

His embarrassment faded as soon as his face was concealed in a jungle of flying hair. Hugging Hermione felt wonderful and Ron fought the impulse to simply drag her out of the Great Hall, cram her into the nearest broom closet and have himself a right good snog. Naturally he didn't do so, though certain traitorous parts of his body certainly felt up for it.

Quickly he dumped down next to her and took extra care to carefully arrange his robes. Ron just knew he was as red as he'd ever been and it felt suspiciously like he was breaking into hives. Luckily however no one else seemed to notice any of these things, or if they did they didn't comment.

It took him the better part of lunch to calm down sufficiently to pay attention to what Harry and Hermione was talking about.

"That's outrageous!" Ron heard Harry all but yell. He looked mortified, his lunch completely forgotten.

"Tell me about it," Hermione huffed, flinging her uncontrollable hair over her shoulders. "I've spent hours upon hours futilely trying to convince her that St. Mungo's undoubtedly is the best place for him, but would she listen? No!"

"But surely the Healers would've said something?"

"Oh they did, believe me. Didn't do much good, though. Not that I blame them or anything, they really did their best. She can be quite scary when she wants to and a force to be reckoned with. They never really stood a chance, poor souls."

Ron looked from one to the other trying to get his head around what they were discussing.

"What're you talking about?" he asked. Harry and Hermione whipped their heads around with astonishing synchronisation.

"The same thing we've been talking about since the start of lunch," said Harry. He was looking at Ron oddly as though he was trying to figure out something but didn't quite have all the pieces.

"My stubborn, pigheaded mother," Hermione supplied sounding more frustrated than Ron had ever heard before.

"What's with your mum? She's alright isn't she?"

"Physically yes, mentally I'm not so sure." Hermione's mouth was pursed in a very thin line. It was the line she usually reserved for people or actions she highly disapproved of and it baffled Ron that she'd use it concerning her mother. Yet still there was something else underneath it all; worry. Deep and intense worry.

"Why's that?" he asked quietly, painfully aware that both Hermione and Harry was staring at him like he'd just lost his marbles not having picked up on the theme of the conversation before now.

"You all right, mate?" Harry asked with thinly veiled concern.
"Fine," Ron mumbled feeling his ears heat up again under their scrutinizing stares. "Just a bit of a headache, that's all. Probably from all the fumes down in Snape's lair." He managed a weak chuckle. "Just please update me on this issue with your mum, will you?"

Hermione proceeded to explain all about her mother's distrust in magical healing and how she'd forced them to transfer not just her but also Hermione's dad to one of Britain's top Muggle hospitals. Hermione looked to be fighting tears when she told them about the promising new treatment program for Crucatius victims that had been developed since the last Voldemort war and how her dad had shown signs of improvement after just two days. Needless to say, removing him from St. Mungo's was not a good thing especially as the treatment was theorized to have a higher success rate when administered as early after the curse was inflicted as possible.

It was therefore a rather downcast trio that left for afternoon classes at the end of lunch. Ron kept thinking about Hermione's dad all through Charms and Divination, totally oblivious to what his professors were droning on about. When the bell finally sounded for dinner at what felt like centuries later, Ron had managed to fill just one piece of parchment. He stole a quick glimpse at it before he tucked it inside his robes, deciding that he could probably manage to sneak off to send it when Hermione was at her prefect meeting.

Dear dad,

How're things at the Ministry? Not to stressing I hope because I have a rather big favour to ask you. It's about Hermione's dad...

* * *

Hermione didn't turn up for dinner that evening.

"Probably off badgering the professors," Ron commented between mouthfuls of steak and kidney pie. "I wouldn't be surprised if she'd compiled a lengthy scroll with intricate questions with regards to the many lessons she's missed."

This earned a few chuckles from the other fifth year Gryffindors and they completed the meal in relative ease, mainly discussion Gryffindors chances of slaughtering Slytherin in the Quidditch final that was scheduled the following week.

Harry and Ron secured the best chairs when they returned to the common room and set up a game of chess while waiting for Hermione to return, no doubt with her book bag bulging and arms weighed down with books.

Ron had trounced Harry an astonishing thirteen times by the time curfew rolled around and still there was no sign of Hermione. This was a bit more worrying. As a prefect she was very particular about following the imposed rules, and after a brief discussion they decided to go looking for her.

When Dean climbed through the portrait hole asking if something was the matter with Hermione seeing as she'd missed the prefect meeting, Ron went into full panic mode. Harry quickly fetched his cloak and not for the first time cursed the events that had lost him the Marauder's Map (Dumbledore had not seen fit to return it to him after it had been used to find Ron and Hermione).

It didn't exactly take a genius to work out where Hermione was. They found her, quite unsurprisingly, in the library surrounded by a dozen books, an ocean of parchments and her newly rewritten revision tables charmed to hover in midair right in front of her. Several quills were jammed into her by now loose bun and her cheeks and hands were dotted with ink stains. Hermione was muttering under her breath as they approached her silently still hidden under Harry's cloak.

"...that can't be right, can it?" Hermione dove for yet another book from a large pile at her feet, hauled it onto the desk and began flipping pages with impeccable technique undoubtedly a result of many years worth of practise.

"Hah!" she suddenly exclaimed triumphantly a wide grin momentarily chasing away the worry-lines on her forehead. "Good thing I decided to double check these Arithmancy notes," she mumbled. "Not only is the handwriting almost undecipherable, but it's no question that this subject isn't exactly his goblet of Elderberry wine."

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed resentfully, "are you insulting my handwriting and my intelligence?"

Hermione let out a shriek worthy of Parvati and almost toppled out of her chair. Harry and Ron quickly struggled out of the Invisibility Cloak only to be walloped pretty hard by several flying books.

"You stupid gits!" she hissed angrily, glaring murderously at the pair of them. "You scared the living daylights out of me!"

Ron and Harry muttered their apologies and Hermione summoned the books she'd thrown at them with a scowl.

"It's after curfew," said Harry.

"And we were worried about you," Ron continued. "It's not like you to purposefully break any of the school rules, and-"

"- when Dean said you'd missed the prefect meeting, Ron sort of panicked and -"

"- we decided to go looking for you. We wanted to make sure you were alright, and-"

"-we have something important to tell you."

Hermione glanced from one to the other a small smile tugging at her lips. "Have you two by any chance spent a lot of time with Fred and George in my absence?"

Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows and shook their heads in perfect sync. "No," said Harry. "We've been trying to avoid them as a matter of fact. They've been on a warpath trying to rope in volunteers to test their new products. Apart from the On-The-Ball Bonbons we've stayed away."

"Yeah," Ron added. "Especially considering what happened to poor Dean." He and Harry shuddered.

"What happened to Dean?" Hermione demanded part curious part indignant that one of their class mates had been taken advantage of by Ron's rather pushy twin brothers.

"Believe me when I say you don't want to know," said Ron looking perfectly serious for once. "Besides I think Dean would die of embarrassment if he thought you knew about it."

"Oh. Alright, I don't need to know." Hermione couldn't help but feel a smidge of hurt that they wouldn't tell her, but decided to let it pass. She could always ask Dean about it herself, they were on pretty good terms after all. Apropos Dean...

"I can't believe I missed the prefect meeting," Hermione groaned letting her head fall dejectedly down on her Arithmancy book. "Professor McGonagall will be most disappointed, and I'm already hopelessly behind in all my classes."

"Ah, forget about it, Mione," Ron said in what he obviously thought was a consoling tone of voice. Hermione found it extremely irritating. "You're the teacher's pet and you know it. You won't get into trouble, especially considering that you've just returned from St. Mungo's and all."

Hermione harrumphed but didn't say anything. Hadn't they mentioned having to tell her something?

"What was it you came here for anyway?" she asked briskly to cover up the fact that she was sort of upset. "Whatever it is I'd appreciate it if you could be somewhat snappy about it. I have a ton of notes to get through, OWLs to study for and books to peruse."

Harry and Ron shared a look, nodded and then Ron raised his wand and muttered a spell. Next thing she knew everything on the desk was packing itself up and zooming into the two enormous book bags she'd hauled down her earlier.

"What-?!" she managed to squeak out before Harry grabbed her by the arm and began steering her towards the door. Levitated her bags Ron brought up the rear.

"Sorry about this, but what we want to discuss with you can't be dealt with snappily I'm afraid," said Harry. He at least had the decency to look somewhat apologetic unlike Ron who was grinning as though he'd just got word that the Cannons had won a game.

"This has better be good," Hermione growled from between gritted teeth.

Ron's grin disappeared like snow in July.

"Good it is not," he said solemnly. "But it's damn more important than OWLs!"

*

Half an hour later Hermione was brought up to speed on all the latest developments. She was now sitting cross-legged on the couch in front of the fire having ushered the remaining students up to their dormitories by waving her prefect's badge around with much authority. Ron had found the display alarmingly arousing and was trying to hide the evidence behind a stack of velvety cushions. Harry was on the floor his back against one of the chairs, his eyes alternating between the roaring fire and Hermione who was busy reading through Ron and Harry's list of betrayer candidates.

Glancing from Hermione to Ron Harry suppressed the urge to smirk. His best mate looked quite flustered as he sat next to Hermione fiddling nervously with one of the many fluffy cushions. The tips of his ears were tinged pink and Harry was having a hard time not breaking out in titters. He nearly bit through his lip a minute later when Hermione blushing furiously scooted several inches closer to Ron under the pretence of adjusting the blanket she'd cuddled under. They were both hopeless.

It only took a few minutes for Hermione to finish reading the masterpiece. Harry watched her intently waiting for her to pass judgement.

"Well," she said slowly laying down the parchment. "It's -"

"- totally bullocks, I know!" Ron finished looking rather dejected. "I'll get some quills and a new piece of parchment, shall I?" He made to get up but Hermione quickly stopped him.

"What are you on about, Ron? I haven't even told you my opinion yet. I was actually going to say that it's not a bad start."

Ron looked at her blankly. "You're not going to shred it to bits?"

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Why ever would I do that? Oh, alright so it needs a bit of tweaking here and there. Some parts I think can be safely removed and others should be added but all in all I think it's quite good actually."

Harry couldn't help but guffaw. "You do realize, Ron that if I'd taken you up on that bet I could be walking around in lacy maroon dress robes draped with a matching Weasley jumper right about now!"

Hermione looked from Harry to Ron oddly. "What have I missed?" she asked timidly.

"Don't forget the woolly socks, mate," said Ron with a laugh. Harry broke down in a fit of laughter. Hermione simply shook her head and summoned an ink bottle.

"When you're quite done picturing each other in atrocious attires I'd like to get pack on topic, please." She was answered by more barks of laughter. Five minutes later they'd gotten control of themselves and were back in serious mode.

"Okay," said Hermione briskly. "As I've already mentioned I think this list will do nicely as a starting point. Some of the candidates included are a bit farfetched though. For starters I think we can safely rule out Ludo Bagman."

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry with a shrug. "It's not as if we seriously believed him to be the betrayer, we just started listing everyone who's been acting sort of funny around me lately, as well as the ones we know to be sadistic bastards."

"Yes, I sort of noticed that," Hermione commented dryly as she crossed out Bagman's name with a flourishing motion. "You two already know my position on Snape, but out of respect for your opinions I'll leave him here at least for now. The same goes for Fudge. Somehow he doesn't strike me as smart enough to be involved in an intricate ploy like this, but his actions or rather inactions this past year are a bit suspicious."

Harry and Ron high-fived triumphantly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Now, let's get down to business shall we?" She produced a quill from somewhere inside her bushy hair and licked the tip. Ron blushed maroon. He suddenly wished he was a quill.

"I had a lot of time to think while I was at St. Mungo's and there's one thing that's been bothering me for a while." She paused and looked strangely at Ron, who was still beet red and staring longingly at her quill. "Are you alright, Ron?" she asked concernedly. "You look a little steamed."

Ron snapped out of his trance with a yelp. "Er... Um I'm fine, thanks," he said quickly. "Just dandy, actually. What were you about to say again?"

Harry snickered and Hermione once again shook her head in bewilderment. Boys were just plain strange.

"I've been thinking about Ron's kidnapping this summer and there's something about the whole incident that just doesn't quite add up."

Ron and Harry were suddenly all ears.

"What? How exactly?" asked Harry.

"Well, we've always assumed that they were there to kidnap Ron in an attempt to flush out Harry. I mean everyone knows about your tendency to just rush off without thinking when someone's in trouble."

She stared at Harry pointedly as she said this. "And don't even bother denying it, because we all know it's true. It's a plausible deduction really, especially when we take into consideration that you also have trust-issues, meaning that you have a hard time trusting adults especially and therefore could be liable to run off on a rescue mission without alerting anyone. This would make you a relatively easy target for Voldemort to capture and confront you."

Harry was mouthing soundlessly clearly trying to jump to his own defence. Hermione however didn't give him the chance.

"With this in mind our original theory is quite credible, but in retrospect I've begun to question it..."

"What do you mean question it?" Ron demanded. "I was the one being captured remember! I heard them talking amongst themselves and this definitely was the plan!"

"Or perhaps it was the plan as they knew it," said Hermione impatiently. "Please hear me out before you shoot my idea down, will you?"

Ron nodded and Hermione sighed. "Thank you. The attack on you Ron was quite sloppy if you don't mind me saying so. And by sloppy I mean that it didn't seem terribly well-planned or thought through. It was something very hasty and on-the-spot about it, like they weren't really all that prepared. I mean you did manage to escape didn't you? That's not exactly something that happens too often where Death Eaters are involved. In fact they're known for their well-planned, efficient and brutal attacks. The attack on you was sloppy and unprofessional if I can even use such a word with regards to Death Eaters. In other words it was not even close to their usual modus operandi."

"I hear what you're saying and I agree that it's wasn't a very typical Death Eater attack, but then my question is: Why is this important?" Harry looked somewhat confused.

"Because," Hermione continued breathlessly, "I don't really think their motive for being near the Burrow was to kidnap Ron."

"No?" Ron asked bitingly. "Then why the hell did they do just that, then?"

"Probably because you just happened to run straight into them!" Hermione bit back angrily. "You were in a stinking rage if I recall it correctly and stormed off like a rampant madman. Naturally they recognised you and probably thought: Hey, we've got ourselves a Weasley brat. Let's keep him and present him to our Master, I bet he'll be pretty pleased and maybe we'll be awarded beyond our wildest dreams."

Sensing that Ron was about to explode into another stinking rage, Harry cleared his throat. Hermione instantly turned her attention to him.

"Then what in your opinion was the reason for Death Eaters to camp out in the forest near the Burrow?" he asked pointedly. "I can't really see them roasting marshmallows and gathering around the fire telling each other ghost stories."

Hermione rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. Ron vaguely wondered if she never got tired of doing that.

"If you'll remember you and I had just arrived at the Burrow quite unexpectedly," she continued breathlessly. "I believe that these Death Eaters were sent to the Burrow to keep an eye on us. And by us I mean the three of us. This was the first time last summer that we were all in the same place at the same time. The same day, Death Eaters turn up. Coincidence you might say. I however am not so sure. If they wanted to kidnap Ron why didn't they do this earlier that summer? If they'd done their homework they'd known that Harry usually turned up at the end of the summer, and with Harry comes security. Lots and lots of security."

Harry scowled but didn't say anything. Ron was chewing on his bottom lip seemingly deep in thought. Hermione took this as a sign to keep talking.

"The minute Harry turned up at the Burrow, Order members were dispatched and I bet Hogwarts: A history that Voldemort was aware of that. I think Voldemort just wanted to keep an eye on us for some reason."

Harry opened his mouth but shut it again when Hermione ploughed on with her monologue.

"Why you ask. I expect it has something to do with the prophecy, I mean what else could it possibly be? We still don't know for sure what this Unagi thing is but if I were to venture a guess as to what it's all about I'd say it's some form of united magic, hence the name."

Ron and Harry were staring at her with wide eyes. "You actually believe Voldemort thinks we'll form a magic bond of sorts?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, but it sounds plausible to me. It turns out that St. Mungo's have a rather impressive library and in between tending to my parents I tried to find something about this Unagi-thing the prophecy mentioned, but I couldn't find anything specific. The closest I got was a brief mention in a footnote in one of the books about the Founders of something called Unimagik. I don't know if this is the same thing, but considering the similarities between the words I made a note of it."

"What did it say then?" Harry demanded. Ron looked beyond words. Hermione reached inside her robes and pulled out a piece of neatly folded parchment. Clearing her throat she read:

Unimagik is a rare form of magic bonding. To this date there've only been four recorded cases, the bond between the Hogwarts Founders being the latest. This rare bond is distinguishable from other types of magical bonding on several accounts, the group's composition being the most important. A Unimagik Bond consists of three wizards or witches, each contributing with one or more specific personal powers. It is the combination of these individual strengths that produce a magic so powerful that few if none can counter.

However the three Unimagiks cannot successfully fuse their forces without the presence of a fourth party. This person provides a specific link to each Unimagiker; Faithful Friend, Family Blood and One True Love. Though it is believed that many witches and wizards have had the potential to become Unimagiks, it is most likely the absence of a true Catalyst that has stopped it forming. This is an advanced form of Old Magic and thus it is crucial that the Catalyst truly fulfil these three roles to the core.

For the Hogwarts Founders the Unimagiks Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor brought Divination, Transportable Metamorphmagic and Thought-controlled Wandless Magic. These are just examples of powers the three Unimagiks might bring into the bond. Godric Gryffindor was the Catalyst for the Founders' Unimagik Bond. He was Faithful Friend to Salazar Slytherin, Family Blood of Helga Hufflepuff while Rowena Ravenclaw was his One True Love. It was with the aid of this powerful bond that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was built and founded more than a thousand years ago.

It is common history that Salazar Slytherin eventually had a falling out with the three other founders. With his departure the last recorded case of Unimagik was irreversibly broken.

Hermione folded the parchment carefully and slipped it back inside her robes. Harry and Ron gawked at her with identical astonished looks.

"Are you trying to tell me what I thing you're trying to tell me?" Ron finally asked in a surprisingly normal voice. Hermione shrugged.
"That depends entirely on what you think I'm trying to tell you, doesn't it?" she replied evasively. She was enjoying their reaction far more than she should have. This was serious business after all.

"You think the three of us have the potential to form a bond like that, don't you?" Harry cut right to the chase. Hermione beamed at him.

"Is that really such a farfetched notion, Harry? I mean we've been pretty certain that the Prophecy of the Strinx was about you. What we've been struggling to make sense of is who this Strinx is and what the Unagi was all about. If Unagi and Unimagik really is the same thing then I believe we have the answer to these questions."

Harry still didn't look entirely convinced. Ron didn't appear to have come out of shock yet.

"Perhaps," said Harry with a frown, "but please enlighten me as to what specific personal powers we're supposed to bring to this bond. Don't be insulted or anything but when push comes to show we're really just three rather ordinary magic students."

He let out a forced laugh. "Neither Ron or I have shown one iota of talent for Divination so far, nor have you if Trelawney's crushing judgement of your aura back in third year, Hermione. Divination we can therefore safely rule out."

Hermione growled in frustration. "Harry, you're missing the point! Didn't you hear what I read just now? That was just examples of powers. For all we know each of us can be in position of powers that haven't really manifested themselves yet."

At the point she stared at Ron rather pointedly but he pretended not to notice. Hermione sighed heavily. She'd sworn to keep his secret, but in all honesty she thought Harry deserved to know. It could help them after all.

"Okay, let's for argument's sake say you're right and the three of us are just brimming over with new and powerful abilities that we just don't know about yet. Then please do tell me who this Catalyst or should I say Strinx is?"

Hermione leaned back and crossed her arms importantly. "Easy," she said with an air of finality to it. "It's Ginny."

When the reaction she'd been expected didn't come, Hermione knew she'd convinced them. They both looked quite deflated though, as if they'd just sat through their OWLs without having had the time to revise for them. It was a pitiful sight, but Hermione wisely kept her mouth shut. They needed some time to process the information and with some luck Ron would come to his senses too. Hermione huffed inwardly. If not she would be forced to have words with him.

She chewed nervously on her bottom lip, a blush slowly creeping up her cheeks. It wasn't particularly words she wanted to have with him though...

Her thoughts were thankfully interrupted when Ron opened his mouth for the first time since she'd told them about Unimagiks.

"I guess we'll be family one day then, Harry," he said casually. He looked at Harry shrewdly and Hermione watched in fascination as Harry turned a brilliant shade of magenta.

"One True Love, ey? Heavy stuff, that is. Wonder what mum will say about all this."

Harry appeared to have stopped breathing. Hermione couldn't help but pity the bloke.

"Unless of course, Ginny's a closet lesbian," Ron added playfully winking at Hermione.

Next the common room was filled with the sound of Harry spluttering incoherently, Hermione's indignant shrieks and Ron's loud guffaws.