Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

By Moon Weasley

Chapter Thirty

The Note

Hermione Granger was clearly quite upset, that much was certain. Harry fought a loosing battle trying valiantly not to sigh mentally as he half-listened to his friend rant on and on. She'd been pacing back and forth in front of his bed for the past three minutes yammering non-stop about something Ron-related that much he'd picked up.

Harry watched in transfixed fascination as her wild and voluminous hair whipped about her head like out-of-control branches. She's like a human Whomping Willow, he thought evilly and had to bite down hard on his tongue not to chuckle at his own observation. Thankfully this went unnoticed by Hermione.

Ginny however seemed to have picked up on his amusement because she was squeezing his fingers lightly and the corners of her mouth were twitching slightly. Their eyes met and for a few moments Harry revelled in the fact that they'd finally come clean about their feelings for each other. His hand was tingling from the contact of her fingers, his ears were virtually ablaze and it felt like a great big balloon filled with ridiculous happy gas was swelling inside his chest. He knew he was probably grinning like the famed cat that ate the canary but couldn't help it even if he tried. Life was good, and it would be even better if Hermione would just put a sock in it and pull up a chair already!

But despite all the giddy feelings and besotted thoughts, at the back of his mind a thin layer of hurt, mistrust and suspicion still lingered. Almost a year of secrets didn't just erase itself in one afternoon. It was impossible for him to just forgive and forget everything in the blink of an eye. But he'd get there in the end, Harry was certain of that.

And besides their fates were interlocked and set now. It would never be anyone else; Harry knew this and the notion was not only comforting it also brought hope. Hope for a future; something he'd never bothered dwelling on before.

Another glance at Hermione and Harry realized she was only about half a tic away from working herself into a mini-rage. Quickly he rescheduled the profound inner musings for a later time. His friend was clearly in dire need of some heavy Ron-Counselling and a confrontation of sorts seemed inevitable. Ginny had obviously reached the same conclusion.

"What's he done this time?" she asked tiredly rolling her eyes skyward in a my-brother's-a-world-class-prat kind of way. Hermione growled in response. Harry winced. Growling was never a good sign.

"I haven't got the foggiest clue what he's done!" she quipped shrilly waving her arms around in a mad fashion making Harry once again think of a certain willow he knew. "I can't find the prat, it's like he's become unplottable or something!"

Ginny snickered. "Seriously Hermione! It's Ron! Unplottable Charms is a bit too advanced for him me thinks. It's not exactly in his nature to look up, practice and successfully perform advanced Seventh year Spellwork, now is it?"

"I suppose not," grumbled Hermione darkly, still pacing relentlessly up and down Harry's bedside.

"Please sit down, Hermione," asked Harry pleadingly. "You're making my head hurt, trotting about like that."

"I can't do that," huffed Hermione. "Ron's off somewhere doing things likely to earn him an expulsion and I'm told to sit! Some friend you are, Harry! Aren't you the least bit concerned about what he might be getting himself into?"

Before he could protest to the unfairness of her words, Ginny had leapt across the bed, seized Hermione by her robes and shoved her rather forcefully down into a vacant chair.

"That was uncalled for, Hermione," said Ginny, pinning her with a stern glare. "The chap's shackled to the hospital wing, for Merlin's sake. Do you honestly thing Pomfrey would've let him leave even if he asked her?"

Ginny screwed her voice up in what Harry thought was a very unflattering attempt to sound like him. As if he squealed like that?

"You need to release me please so that I can go search for my hot-headed best friend who's out to beat his sister's ex-boyfriend to pieces for things he haven't done."

Ginny snorted mirthlessly. "Somehow I can't really picture her going for that, and we both know there's no sneaking out of here without her permission. She's renowned for her infirmary wards, a testimony I'm sure George over there could give you had he been a bit less woozy."

George grumbled something unintelligible and was instantly accosted by the Matron in question, who swiftly jammed a thermometer into his mouth. Ginny arched an eyebrow and Hermione shrugged in defeat. "Point taken," she grumbled and crossed her arms.

"Now," continued Ginny, turning their attention away from the somewhat sickening display across the room. "About my brother; I don't know where you've looked but we know one thing though: Max has not yet been brought here, ergo Ron might not have found him yet."

"Or," interrupted Hermione darkly, "he might be taking his sweet time, beating him beyond recognition." Ginny scoffed.

"We both know that would never happen. Ron's got a foul temper and an even fouler mouth on him, but he's mostly all talk and little action, at least when it comes to violent stuff like this."

Hermione was practically brimming over with protests but was waved off by a surprisingly talkative and confident looking Ginny. Something's changed Hermione noted with interest, but this obviously was not the time to inquire into that.

"No buts," said Ginny brusquely, "Ron's likely to ruffle him up a bit (Hermione yelped at this) and will probably refuse to listen to what Max has to say ("A very likely scenario," muttered Hermione), but he won't maim the guy."

She stared pointedly at Hermione daring her to disagree, but she could little do but shrug. She knew Ginny was right, but that didn't stop her form worrying, far from it. Ron might not cripple Max but who's to say the opposite didn't apply?

Max was older and certainly knew more hexes than Ron. If it came down to a duel of Magic Ron was in trouble. If it came down to a Duel of fists, Ron would still be in trouble, just not the same kind. Hermione blushed despite her adamant attempt not to. She was pretty sure Ron was stronger than Max, and if it came down to a common fist fight then she was pretty certain Ron would return victorious. Hermione was particularly incensed that this notion seemed to excite her more than repulse her, seeing as she under no circumstances condoned fighting of any kind. She shook her head in self disgust, something which Ginny clearly misinterpreted.

"Oh, honestly Hermione," she groaned rolling here eyes skywards. "You know what? Seeing as you're so worried about poor Ronniekins, and that you've no faith in him, I'll help you look for the git."

Completely taken aback Hermione blinked owlishly a couple of times, opening and closing her mouth several times in a row looking positively ridiculous.

"You will?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Seems like it," was Ginny's curt reply as she made a number of gathering her things as noisily as she could. "We did date for a while, I know a few of Max' favourite spots around the castle. It's worth a look anyway."

"Thanks," said Hermione gratefully. "I should probably come with you, shouldn't I? Oh yes, definitely. I'm getting quite good at calming Ron if I do say so myself. If it's just you that might provoke him. Oh yes that'll be just like him-"

"No," interrupted Ginny with finality. She was halfway to the door already before Hermione had even thought to rise from the chair.

"I think you should stay here."

She cast Harry a meaningful look, and Hermione was astonished to see Harry not only meet it, but also hold it for a good while before nodding slowly.

"Okay," she agreed readily, her eyes falling to the old and worn leather bound book resting on Harry's lap. By the time Ginny had exited the Infirmary Hermione had grabbed it and was halfway through the foreword.

"You should just skip ahead to page 81," suggested Harry helpfully but she simply shushed him. Didn't he understand that in order to fully grasp and process the information in any given book, one should really take the time to explore the insights the author had to offer. To skip the foreword and the prologue was just - rude. It was like barging into a house uninvited and without wiping ones feet. It simply wasn't done.

It was therefore with some sheepishness she found herself thumbing through the pages to find page 81 just a minute later. Harry was grinning from ear to ear like the insufferable prat that he was and Hermione didn't think she'd ever live it down.

It had even said so in the foreword; turn to page 81. She desperately wished she could take back the harsh scolding she'd just pelted poor Harry with for, in her words, his book-blasphemy.

When the page finally revealed itself to her, she couldn't care less about book-etiquette. The next half hour was spent reading, rereading and interrogating poor Harry about the finer details about his earlier conversation with Ginny.

The pieces were finally falling into place, but the biggest piece still remained hidden to them: Who among them had betrayed them? She tactfully avoided asking too much about this whole True Love business, sensing that Harry wouldn't be particularly comfortable talking about that side of the prophecy.

But if he was willing to share this information with her then it could only mean one thing: Ginny and Harry had It, had acknowledged It and admitted as much to each other! Her heart virtually swelled with joy on their behalf. If only Ron and she could work out their little knots then everything would be just honky dory. Or as honky dory as it could be during a war anyway...

Finally their conversation turned to the Unagi.

"Though it all fits," said Harry exasperatedly, "I still find it hard to grasp, you know. This stuff about the Strinx and the - eh thing - between me and Ginny I can understand." His face was a brilliant shade of magenta and he simply refused to look at her, but Hermione didn't care. It was just so unexpected and uncharacteristically mature of him to acknowledge and talk about this. She hadn't expected him to address it of his own accord at all!

"I mean I can feel it, deep inside I just know it's true, but this Unimagik thing I'm not so sure about."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione a bit too harshly. Didn't Harry think they could do it? Had he no faith in her and Ron? Harry sighed deeply, having obviously missed the hurt in her voice.

"I can't really see what extraordinary gift I'm suppose to bring to that bond," he admitted almost inaudibly. "Aside from this hideous scar, there's nothing special about me at all."

Hermione's eyes bugged out and she felt like laughing uncontrollably. Was he for real?

"You're worried about your part?" she asked in honest disbelief. He was Harry Potter for Morgana's sake! He had no right to doubt himself, that was for common people like her!

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it and aside from flying, there's really not much I'm all that good at."

"Oh, and where does that leave Ron and me, then?" asked Hermione sharply, unable to hide the annoyance she was experiencing. The nerve of him! Harry however just stared at her like she'd just grown two additional and equally bushy-haired heads.

"What? Are you kidding? That's easy. You're like the most intelligent person alive and if that's not an extraordinary gift, then I don't know what is. As for Ron, have you ever met anyone with a better head for strategy? That chess-thing in first year wasn't a fluke you know. Either he's one of the best strategists there is, or he's got a spot of Seer in him. Either way, he's extraordinary. I however only fly fairly decently, and I highly doubt you can form a Unagi-bond based on Quidditch."

Harry grabbed the Snitch that lay on the bedside table and twirled it lazily in his hand. Hermione just stared at him not quite sure how to approach this. For the umpteenth time she cursed Ron for not having told Harry about his wandless thought controlled magic yet.

"You really believe that, don't you?" she asked finally. Harry just blinked confusedly at her.

"You do. Oh my."

How do I deal with this, she thought desperately, idly wishing that Ron was there with them instead of on a mad crusade to behead Max Strober. He'd know what to say to Harry right about now. He'd probably laugh his head off and then whack him over the head and tell him he was daft. And Harry would probably believe that; he had a tendency to take Ron's words more to heart than hers.

Hoping that Ginny was successful in her quest and that Ron would return at any moment now, Hermione surprised even herself by avoiding the subject. She then shocked both of them by doing something she'd never thought she'd do: She told a secret that wasn't hers to tell.

"Ron's special gift to the Unagi bond is not strategy," she blurted and felt her cheeks flush as soon as the words had left her mouth. Please forgive me, she thought desperately as she watched Harry gape open-mouthed at her.

"He's not a Seer, either," she continued in a smaller voice, unable to met Harry's eyes and simultaneously setting herself up for Ron's potential rage.

"No?" asked Harry blankly. The Snitch took advantage of his momentary distraction and escaped his hand. It only came about two feet into the air before Harry had reclaimed it.

"No," confirmed Hermione shakily.

"So, does that mean that you know what it is?"

The question was laced with hurt, and Hermione didn't begrudge him in the slightest. She'd been there herself only weeks prior.

"Yes," whispered Hermione, daring a glance at Harry. She instantly wished she hadn't.

"For how long have you known?"

"Since the night we got trapped," Hermione mumbled. "I'd suspected it for a while, and after we'd been trapped for goodness knew how long without sign of being rescued, he reluctantly used his powers."

"And what power is that?" inquired Harry coldly.

Was that really Harry speaking? Hermione shivered. She suddenly knew why Harry had managed to escape Voldemort's clutches so many times. This Harry was right scary and she dearly hoped this little incident wouldn't earn her on the wrong side of his fence.

"I really think Ron should explain this to you himself," she began but was ruthlessly cut off.

"I said what powers?" Harry's nostrils were flaring something Hermione knew to be a bad thing.

"This has dragged out for long enough without my closest friends hiding things from me! I've had enough of that from Ginny, but at least she had somewhat understandable reason. What's Ron's I ask?"

"He was told not to tell anyone," said Hermione weakly. She'd never regretted a decision more in her life. Never again would she divulge a secret not hers to tell.

"By Dumbledore I'd wager," spat Harry his fists shaking.
"It was Professor Figg actually," she corrected, "but probably on Dumbledore's orders. She's been working with him for a while, teaching him to control it and whatnot."

Harry was silent for a few moments.

"You still haven't told me what it is," he said bitingly.

"No I haven't have I?" said Hermione quietly. She was still praying for Ron to come storming into the room to deal with this mess himself. The infirmary door however stayed disappointingly closed.

"Wandless thought-controlled magic," she finally whispered, once again praying that Ron would forgive her.

"Come again," demanded Harry and Hermione reluctantly repeated it, a bit louder this time.Harry raked a hand through his hair making it if possible even messier than it normally was.

"That's what I thought you said," was his even comment. "Blimey, that's something."

"Yes it really is," agreed Hermione. "It's quite impressive."

Harry was silent for a moment. "That was him then, stunning Malfoy in Defence class that day, wasn't it?" he finally said and Hermione nodded her confirmation. "Figg took responsibility for it to cover his arse, then did she?"

"I don't really know," said Hermione honestly. "To tell the truth I think that was when she found out about it. You have to ask Ron about it, I don't really know all that much. He wasn't particularly keen to discuss it with me, and the only reason I know is because he used it when we were trapped and had lost our wands. I think it was him that sent that cauldron flying at Malfoy that time in Potions too. It seems like a very Ron thing to do, wouldn't you say?"

Harry just stared at her perplexedly for a moment. "I always thought I did that," he said slowly, a wrinkle forming on his forehead. "I pictured it my head and I really wanted it to happen, so I always just chalked it up to a boost of accidental magic, you know. I'm quite prone to do that," he added dryly.

"Oh, well maybe you did do it," said Hermione slowly. Harry laughed mirthlessly.

"Didn't you just say Ron did it?"

"No, I said I thought Ron did it. I never actually asked him about it. Maybe you can do that too, then."

"A likely scenario," said Harry sarcastically allowing the Snitch to flutter out of his hand only to snatch it again a split second later. "Somehow the idea of two out of three Unimagiks having the same gift doesn't sound very plausible to me, but thanks for trying."

Hermione felt like pulling out her hair. Harry was just so damned impossible to reason with! Nobody wallowed in self-pity more expertly than Harry Potter and she was hardly the ideal person to drag him out of his funk. Now where was Ron?

"Bugger!" yelled Harry suddenly and a moment later Hermione realized why. The Snitch had made another attempt at escape and this time it had obviously timed its moment carefully. It zoomed expertly out of Harry's reach and whizzed skilfully through the air.

"Damn, the window!" yelled Harry already halfway out of the bed.

"Accio Snitch!" cried Hermione without thinking and the next moment the escapee were secured tightly in the palm of her hand, her wand in the other.

"Nice reflexes," complimented Harry making Hermione blush slightly.

"Would it have mattered if it had gotten away?" she asked curiously opening her fingers slightly to inspect the golden ball. She'd never held one before; come to think of it she'd never really seem one up close at all. Funny really what with Ron and Harry so stupidly obsessed with the game.

"Not really, Madam Hooch has plenty of reserve balls. It's just that I've sort of grown fond of this little bugger. This Snitch has been used in all the games I've played."

Hermione giggled, something which made Harry groan.

"You old romantic," she teased lightly making a number out of patting him rather maternally on the cheek and topped it off by giving it a little pinch. Harry swatted her hand away, grumbling moodily about the madness of girls, which made her giggle even more.

However laughter soon gave way for curiosity.

"What's this?" she asked, poking at something that seemed to be stuck to the ball right between the two silver wings.

"What?"

Harry was leaning towards her eagerly. She prodded the foreign object gently with her wand and yelped in shock when it suddenly moved. They both watched with bathed breath as a small square piece of parchment hovered in midair in front of them. A second later it began to unfold itself. When done it fell to the floor. Tentatively Hermione bent to pick it up. Holding it between two fingers she wordlessly handed the note to Harry. With an eerie sense of foreboding he accepted it. This was not good; that much he knew.

And he was right.

"That sick bastard!"

Harry dropped the parchment onto his blanket; his pulse beating a mile a minute. He wanted to yell, scream, kick and maim. How dared he?

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione shrilly unable to hide the fear in her voice. It was precious few things that could make Harry loose his temper like that and none of them were particularly festive.

"We now know why neither you nor Ginny seems to be able to find Ron."

The words chilled her to the bone, the meaning impossible to misinterpret. With trembling fingers she reached forward and flipped the fallen parchment over.

We've taken Weasley.

Be at the clearing in the forest south west of Aragog's lair by sunset.

Come alone or the thing you'll miss the most will be forever lost.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! OH MY GOD!"

Hermione was loosing her mind and fast. This was not happening! Surely it was a joke of sorts. A pathetic Gred and Forge kind of prank, just a tad more tasteless than their usual gibberish? Wasn't it? Oh, please say that it was!

Of course it wasn't. The Dark Mark charmed to the bottom of the parchment was proof enough of that, but somehow her mind refused to accept the fact that Ron appeared to be very much abducted by Lord Voldemort.

Next to her Harry was still cursing and fuming but somehow Hermione couldn't find the energy to participate in his rage. If she'd only manage to tap into her anger then perhaps she'd manage to do something; anything. But at this point all she felt was paralyzed with the feeling of being robbed of her soul.

"I need to get out of this bed!" barked Harry impatiently. He had tossed the blanket aside and was rummaging around under the bed.

"Have you seen my clothes? I can't go traipsing off in this hospital robe. I need to find my clothes or we'll never get out of the castle."

Hermione just stared blankly out in space. "Hello, Hermione! Did you hear what I asked? I can't find my clothes! Ah, here's my wand. Accio Harry Potter's clothes!"

She barely registered Harry's Quidditch uniform whizzing by her. A short moment later Harry was dressed and ready.

"Are you coming?" he asked impatiently tucking his wand into the back pocket of his trousers. Hermione didn't think that was the safest place for it but found herself unable to form the words to warn him.

"Hermione?"

Harry seemed to have finally picked up on the fact that she wasn't responding to anything he was saying. "You alright? We need to get going, it's almost Sunset and we've got a fair distance to travel before that."

"I can't breathe."

Hermione seriously felt like she was slowly suffocating.

"Harry," she croaked hoarsely and it wasn't until then that she realized that she was crying. Her cheeks were wet with silent tears and Harry looked rather taken aback at the sight. And who could blame him really? Hermione Granger was calm reincarnated. She always had the answers, the solutions to any tricky ensnarement that came their way. Yet still here she was; paralyzed and breaking to pieces. Somehow this was equally as scary as Ron's abduction, if not more.

"Why can't I breathe, Harry?" she choked out, noticing for the first time that her body was shaking quite badly.

"I dunno," answered Harry truthfully, his eyes wild with panic.

"They can't take him from me now," she croaked desperately, not fully aware of what she was saying, just that she at least was talking. "I just got him, they can't take him. Please say they won't take him!"

"They won't take him," echoed Harry stupidly looking around in a futile attempt for help, but the only other people in the room were Alicia and George; both heavily sedated.

"They won't take him because we'll get him back. Just we have to go now, otherwise it might be too late."

"Too late," she wailed. "It's already too late isn't? We've been unable to talk about it at all ever since I returned from St. Mungo's and now it's too late."

She broke down in violent sobs and the sound of her cries was magnified two-times by the echo in the room. Neither noticed the door opening.

"What's too late?" inquired someone perplexedly and both Hermione and Harry whirled around to face the owner of the voice. Hermione instantly let out a shriek of joy and before Harry had even fully processed what he was seeing, she had launched herself across the room and all but propelled the poor unsuspecting redhead to the floor.

"What the blazes? Hermione!" Ron looked quite fraught with distress as he struggled to free his face from Hermione's bushy mane. She however showed no signs of letting go.

"You're okay," she sobbed breathlessly, tightening her grip around his neck. Harry watched as Ron went from a light red to an unhealthy bluish colour. "Hermione, ugh, can't breathe!" he choked out, casting a confused glance at Harry who could little do but shrug. He'd wait with the explaining till Hermione had gotten a hold on herself again. Girls, he thought shaking his head mentally. They really were too emotional for their own good.

"You're alright!" Hermione wailed again, loosening her grip on Ron's neck at last.

"Course I'm alright," said Ron perplexedly, massaging his throat. "Why wouldn't I be? Did you honestly think I could handle Max on my - oomph!"

Harry's jaw dropped to his lap and for a split second he thought he was hallucinating. Had Pomfrey sneaked in and slipped him something to make his mind go all wonky? He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes furiously, wiped the glasses and put them back on again.

No change. Hermione Granger was still kissing, no scratch that, snogging Ron Weasley as if her life was depending on it.

Well, it was about bloody time, he thought irritably. Honestly, they'd been dancing around it for ages, and it wasn't until one of them thought the other in mortal peril that anything was done about it. Ruddy cowards, he concluded with a huff and immediately felt guilty for judging them. He hadn't exactly been Mr. Go-get-the-girl himself, now had he? No not at all...

He chanced another look at the duo that was still going at it and with much enthusiasm to boot. Ron had by now snaked an arm expertly around Hermione's waist, the other curled up in her hair moving in lazy circles. Hermione's hands were around his neck and her fingers looked to be playing with his slightly too-long hair. They looked awfully comfortable and at ease with each other, nothing at all like his first kiss with Eloise had been. That had been a series of increasingly embarrassing moments filled with bumping noses, clashing teeth and clumsy arms.

And then it all clicked into place.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" he blurted out. A loud sucking sound followed by what could only be described as a whimper announced that Ron and Hermione had broken apart. Doing remarkable impressions of radishes they looked anywhere but at him. That alone told him everything he needed to know.

"Well," said Harry his voice dripping with sarcasm, "this certainly has been an enlightening day. It seems to me that everybody's been keeping secrets this year. Everybody but me that is; the common derivation being that the secrets have all been kept from me."

"Look, mate," began Ron falteringly but was drowned out by Harry's continuous rant.

"First there's this whole thing with Ginny. To get you up to speed Ron, the short story being that yes she is the Strinx, yes she's My One True Love a fact she's proven by attempting to date Max. It didn't work and I hope you haven't killed the guy, Ron because he sure hasn't deserved it. The whole Prophecy of the Strinx is about the four of us, and how we by forming a Unagi-bond-"

"That kind Hermione told us about?" interrupted Ron eagerly, casting Hermione an admiring look. She blushed crimson and nodded.

"Yes, that's the one," continued Harry tersely, glowering at Ron. "The three of us are supposed to each bring a special gift or power and with the aide of the Strinx, this bond will fuse the powers and create something more powerful that the sum of our magic." Ron smiled weakly. Harry grunted angrily.

"Wandless thought controlled magic?" he barked angrily. Ron gulped audibly.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," said Harry dryly.

"I guess you told him about that then?" Ron looked at Hermione his expression unreadable.

"Oh, Ron I'm terribly sorry. You know I've been harping on and on for you to tell him and when we started discussing the Unagi bond I just blurted it out. Please forgive me."

"Forgive you?" said Ron disbelievingly. "I should bloody give you a medal, or better yet, kiss you again. I've been fretting my arse off trying to pluck up the courage to tell you, mate." He turned to Harry, his face marred with remorse.

"Figg made me swear not to tell a soul," he explained meekly. "It was one of her conditions for teaching me about controlling this thing, actually. We had a rather lively argument about that, but in the end she won out. I knew I'd end up hurting someone with this stuff if I didn't learn how to manage it. She said I'd get to tell you guys about it eventually, and I was left with little choice but to cross my fingers and hope eventually wasn't that far off."

He snorted angrily. "She actually managed to convince me that she'd put an Anti-telling charm on me. I should've realized it was all just a hoax when Hermione found out and Figg never questioned me about it."

"You never told me about that," cried Hermione in outrage. "You could've told Harry weeks ago, couldn't you? How could you forget something like that?"

"Yeah," echoed Harry, his voice oddly stiff. Usually he was the one keeping the secrets from his friends and for the first time he could honestly attest to how much it hurt to be kept in the dark. "Why didn't you?"

Ron looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Dunno, really," he offered lamely but was cut short by Harry.

"Bullocks, Ron! Out with it, I can see that you're not telling the truth, your ears are practically on fire!"

Ron shuffled his feet nervously and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Hermione, who were practically moulded against him, gasped. She had obviously heard what he said and he earned a sharp whack to his shoulders for it.

"Ronald Weasley, that's utter madness and you know it," she reprimanded sternly. Ron squirmed uncomfortably but refused to look up, mumbling something else under his breath.

"You tell Harry what you just said," demanded Hermione sternly in her best McGonagall-cloned tone of voice. Ron looked terrified, but Harry didn't quite know if it was the prospect of telling him his secret or Hermione's scary demeanour that brought it on. Probably a bit of both, he concluded tiredly as he watched Ron struggle to find his voice.

"Just spit it out already," Harry barked impatiently, summoning Ginny's book and tucking it inside his robes. "We've got a Weasley to rescue after all," he added matter-of-factly.

"Oh my, I'd totally forgot about that," cried Hermione, disentangling herself from Ron and deposited her book bag on the floor.

"What are you on about?" asked Ron bewildered. "What do you mean you have to rescue a Weasley?" The panic in his voice grew with each syllabus, and obviously sensing a panic attack, Hermione smoothly grabbed his hand to calm him down.

"There was a note pinned to the Snitch," she explained hurriedly. "It was from Voldemort informing us that they'd captured Weasley and that Harry was to meet him in the forest at Sunset."

"We initially thought it meant you," continued Harry moving towards the door and motioning for them to follow. "Hermione had just spent an hour prowling the castle for you without luck, and then another half hour had gone by without Ginny finding you either. When we found the note we automatically jumped to the conclusion that they'd abducted you-"

"-hence the dramatic way I greeted you when you returned," interjected Hermione sheepishly. They were hurrying down the corridor, crossing their fingers not to bump into any teachers on the way. A loud wailing siren announced that Madam Pomfrey's Patient Escape Ward had been activated. They quickened their pace considerably, breaking into a light jog.

"Sorry about the kiss," she added with an apologetic smile. "I know we agreed to wait to tell Harry and all but I was just so relieved..."

"Don't worry about," panted Ron as they hurled themselves down another set of stairs. "I recon this is the day for revealing secrets all around, why not add ours to the mix?"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Harry, sounding just a tad winded. Hogwarts really did have too many stairs and corridors!

Ron chuckled almost evilly, and Harry was quite impressed with the way he managed to waggle his eyebrows tantalizingly as they ran.

"Oh it's just that I managed to wriggle a thing or two out of dear old Max that I think might interest you, mate."

"Oh Ron, please say you didn't beat him up," pleaded Hermione half-hysterically.

"Course I didn't," barked Ron indignantly. "What do you think I am? A barbarian?"

Harry saw Hermione rolling her eyes and mouthing a clear Yes but had the presence of mind not to laugh out loud. There wasn't time for a Granger-Weasley row now...

"Well, you can't really blame me for asking, can you," demanded Hermione exasperatedly. "You stormed out of the room like a half-crazed idiot and didn't return for almost two hours, what's a girl to think? Oh gross!"

Hermione gasped and shuddered having just passed straight through the Fat Friar. "I hate it when that happens," she complained unhappily. "And stop snickering, Ronald," she added tersely. "Why don't you just tell us about this secret of Max' before we're trapped by Death Eaters fighting for our lives."

"A bit pessimistic, that girl of yours," quipped Harry breathlessly. Ron grinned widely.

"Yeah, she's a right ray of sunshine that one," was his dry reply something which caused Hermione to train her wand on him in annoyance.

"Oh alright, I'll tell you," he agreed as he narrowly avoided toppling over a suit of armour.

"After having gotten the whole tragic story about how he and Ginny are supposedly allergic to each other, something which I at first found to be a load of hogwash, but hey even the best can be mistaken." He made a number out of ignoring Hermione's huffs of annoyance.

"After that sob story I almost forgot to question him about the way he's been dogging you lately, Harry. Oh please you guys," he exclaimed in disbelief at the confused expressions on their faces. "You can't seriously not have noticed that he's always just a few steps behind us. And he's been trotting off to send mysterious owls at every opportunity. In sum: Dodgy behaviour."

Harry and Hermione exchanged bewildered looks as they dashed across the Entrance Hall towards the double doors leading to the grounds. Ron shook his head disbelievingly.

"How could you not have noticed? Oh well, I guess it's not important anyway seeing as he's in the clear. Turns out he's on some sort of scout mission for the Montrose Magpies. Apparently they've gotten wind of your Quidditch talent and Max, who's been signed on as a reserve Keeper by the way, was told to keep them posted on your form, performance and potential interest in pursuing a career in professional Quidditch."

"No way!" yelled Harry excitedly but was rendered speechless at what met him on the other side of the door. Ginny was sitting quite calmly on the front steps, her legs crossed and eyes staring unblinkingly ahead.

"There you are," said Harry with relief stopping next to her. "We've found Ron."

"I know," she replied serenely, still staring into space.

"We've got to go, Hermione found a note pinned to the Snitch-"

"I know," said Ginny again, this time rising slowly to her feet. She turned towards them and Harry was momentarily struck by the emptiness in her eyes.

"It's Charlie," she explained before Harry could find the voice to ask what was the matter. Clearly something was.

"I've seen it. Tom has him. We need to go into the forest now."

She began to descend the stairs in an almost otherworldly fashion. Harry felt chilled to the bone.

He had a vague feeling they should have notified Dumbledore or one of the other teachers, but by then Ginny was halfway across the lawns heading straight for the Forbidden Forest. They were on their own, but then again hadn't they always been just that?