Harry Potter and the Missing Prophecy

Chapter Eight

Two weeks had passed since that day in the Room of Requirement.

Harry remained quiet, but stayed with Ron and Hermione in their company. They hadn't talked about that day, but Harry had shown his relief and gratitude towards them by not yelling at them again and had tried to include himself in their games and homework sessions. He was distinctly aware that his marks had already suffered, but Hermione tried her best to tutor him along and encourage him when he lost concentration. Harry also had the feeling that Ron and Hermione were, well, not necessarily hiding something from him on purpose, but definitely secretive about something.

Harry had had fitful dreams, constantly in and out of sleep. The same dream of being enclosed in boxes that kept shrinking stayed with him, and the box had recently frighteningly turned into a coffin. He always woke when he felt as though his soul was being crushed by the weight, and it always took him a few moments to catch his breath and wipe the cold sweat off his body. After a few nights of repetitive nightmares, he finally admitted to himself that it was definetly something to actually worry about now, as it seemed to take hours just to get to sleep, only to have what little sleep he did get interrupted frequently through the night. He'd taken to constructing a Silencing Charm around the bed whenever he slept, in case he woke the other sixth year boys.

In truth, Harry felt beaten and exhausted. Ron and Hermione had voiced their concerns about his falling weight and the dark circles around his eyes, and he had told them honestly and truthfully about the dream that had haunted him since the journey on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione offered to ask Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep Potion during one of her evenings working on the ward, which Harry gratefully thanked her for, but then the dream started haunting his waking hours instead. He'd be sitting in class, attempting to transfigure a desk into a wardrobe when the feeling of not being able to breathe would hit him, and he'd struggle to regain his composure.

On the recent Saturday evening, just as the sun was setting on the horizon, Harry and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room at their usual table by the fireplace, quietly doing homework.

Ron was in the Divination Forest room studying crystal ball reading again with Lavender and Parvati. He had come to really enjoy Divination with Firenze and had earnestly tried to successfully and properly read the future, with Lavender and Parvati coaching him. Hermione had voiced to Harry on one or two occasions that she wasn't entirely convinced about Ron's devotion to that particular class, and Harry rather thought that Hermione overreacted in her annoyance whenever Ron did go off with the girls to study. But Harry always inwardly was pleased that he would get to spend some time alone with Hermione, even if all they did was study.

Harry was attempting to change his chair from deep mauve to royal blue with a Colour-Change Charm Professor Flitwick had been teaching them, without much success. Hermione was looking more and more annoyed with herself as she kept magically erasing and re-writing parts of an essay on her opinion on cures for skin diseases and current developments in the research field for her Magical Medical Studies class.

Harry's armchair started to turn from mauve to shocking pink with blue polka dots. He frowned and shook his wand as though trying to fix it, and muttered to himself, "I can duel with the best of them, I've killed a whacking great snake and escaped death by drowning, a dragon and the Dark Lord - three times might I add - and yet I still can't change the colour of a stupid chair properly..."

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione throwing down her quill, which hit the inkwell and subsequently spilt all over her 3 foot long essay.

She shrieked and threw up her hands in disgust, slumping back in her chair.

"I give up!" she cried. Harry looked at her, alarmed at her outburst. "This assignment makes no sense! And can you please stop doing that, it's giving me a headache!"

"Er... sorry," Harry offered meekly, lowering his wand and glancing furtively at the armchair.

Hermione leaned forward and rested her head in her hands, her hair flaring out to cover her face. She sat there for a moment, then lifted her head and gave Harry an apologetic but weary smile. "Sorry, I just..."

"Hey," Harry shrugged. "We've all been there."

Hermione stood up. "I think I'm going to go for a walk, just to clear my head. Do you want to come?"

Harry looked at the chair, which was now going into overdrive and changing colour of its own accord, then at the huge pile of his own overdue and unfinished homework next to Hermione's ruined essay, and screwed up his nose. He knew which option he'd rather be doing. He turned to Hermione. "Yes. Yes, I think I will."

Hermione made an effort to try to clear up the mess, but gave up before she went to her dormitory to fetch her outdoor cloak.

As it was still long before curfew, Harry didn't bother fetching his Invisibility Cloak and the two of them headed out the portrait hole and down the steps towards the castle's main front doors. Harry pulled one open and let Hermione through, and they walked in silence down to the lake and turned right to casually stroll around it.

The air was still and the clouds that had been present all day had cleared to expose the immense black sky. The stars were clear and it was silent all round, save for the crunching of Harry and Hermione's feet on the dewy ground. It was cool, but not too cold to enjoy the still night air.

They walked in silence for a while, before Hermione stopped near a large weeping willow and, from the inside of her cloak, brought out a small picnic blanket and laid it on the grass.

"What did you bring that for?" Harry asked her.

"I like looking up at the stars on clear nights. It's so peaceful. Calming, you know?" she replied as she smoothed out the blanket and then sat on it. She patted the spot next to her, inviting Harry to join her.

Harry sat down and stretched his legs out, then leant back on his hands and looked up. Hermione shifted down the blanket, then lay on her back.

Together, they watched the stars for a while, Hermione occasionally pointing out new constellations that Harry would never have been taught. On such a clear night, the whole universe seemed inky black, the diamond whiteness of the stars twinkling at them almost suggestively, with only a half moon to light up the earth below.

Hermione had been right. The night sky certainly did start to become soothing company for Harry, as did Hermione's soft voice. The stillness, although chilly and damp, offered a kind of peace to Harry's jumbled thoughts. It made him wish he could sleep out here every night under the stars - perhaps they could relax his mind into restful sleep, as nothing else could.

However, during a long, comfortable silence, Harry's thoughts began to wander back to his problems. The relaxed state his body was in seemed to slow and focus his mind, though, and very suddenly, Harry felt the need to talk. It didn't matter to him what to say, so he said the first thing that came to him.

"Do you think...." But his voice trailed off. He felt stupid just for thinking the question. It just sounded so.... cheesy.

Hermione turned her face to his and said: "What?"

"No, no, it doesn't matter." Harry mumbled and turned his head back up towards the moon. His face was in a shadow, but Hermione could see that he was troubled. She didn't say anything and looked up again. That's what I love about Hermione, Harry thought to himself, looking across at her. She didn't push him to talk, not when it was obviously something personal to him. She respected him and his own privacy.

Realising this made Harry doubly sure that Hermione wouldn't laugh at what he had to say, and suddenly said: "Do you think that Sirius and your godmother are out there somewhere, looking down at us, knowing what we're thinking and everything?"

Hermione didn't laugh, but sighed. "I don't know, Harry. I hope so."

"Me too," Harry agreed, then lapsed into comfortable silence again. Harry heard a rustle nearby in the bushes, as though a small animal were making its bed there for the night.

"Can I ask you something, Harry?" Hermione asked uncertainly.

"I guess."

Hermione paused and looked at him. "Are you scared?" When she didn't get an answer right away, she looked away quickly and backtracked. "I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

Harry was thinking hard at her question. If anyone else had asked him that - perhaps even Ron - he didn't think he would have given them an honest answer. But with Hermione, it felt ok to tell her these things honestly, so he did.

"No, it's ok. It's just that no one's asked me before. Everyone tells me stuff, but no one actually listens to what I want to say or asks me how I feel about it all."

"They just ask if you're ok, but don't stop to listen to your answer?" Hermione said.

"That's exactly it! All this... stuff... is bubbling away just under the surface, but everyone just assumes I'm dealing with it all on my own, when I can't do that anymore. It's eating me up and I know I've been treating people horribly, and it's because of that - and I never really meant what I said that day to you and Ron. Everything's all a jumble and I'm - it's hard to think straight anymore. I - I think that's why I've been dreaming what I have."

"Maybe. So tell me then. Tell me and I'll just shut up and listen." Hermione offered, but winced slightly, as though she wasn't sure what she was letting herself in for.

Harry paused, then let it all out in one great torrent. "Ok, then. I'm scared as hell. The future of the whole world is literally being put on my shoulders. How does anyone deal with that? It was never my choice to be linked to Voldemort in this way. It feels like everything is always heaped on me, but I don't get a choice in the matter, I'm just supposed to accept it and get on with it. Dumbledore told me the whole truth, but then sent me on my merry way. He hasn't tried to talk to me to let me know what to do next. Am I just supposed to figure it out on my own? How can I possibly fight Voldemort? What can I possibly use against him that will get rid of him forever? I may know how to duel, but that's nothing compared to Voldemort's powers. And what if I don't succeed? What then?" Harry let out a short, almost panicky laugh, and Hermione let her hand reach out for his, which he squeezed to the point of crushing it, but Hermione didn't flinch.

"I don't know who to be angry at anymore. I look at Dumbledore and just feel numb. I see all his efforts to get me back on his side, but how can it possibly be enough? Nothing can make up for this. I'm so angry. At Sirius, Remus, everyone, even you and Ron. And mostly at myself. I wish I'd wrung Wormtail's neck when I had the chance. I want to talk to Remus about it all, but I feel that if I go to see him, he'll only remind me of what I've lost. And that he'll just be like the others. Patronising, you know? 'Oh, poor Harry. Look, he's so brave, he's gone through so much, how can we make his life a little bit better?' Don't they realise that nothing, not theme parks or an article in the Prophet, or even Quidditch, can make it better."

Harry stopped talking and looked at Hermione, releasing his grip slightly on her hand. He saw her eyes glistening in the moonlight as she stared at the sky. He suddenly felt drained; he had so much more to say, but no other words to express them. Hermione's silence felt like ice in his heart. Now that he'd poured his soul to her - well, almost all of it - he needed her to say something, anything, to stop the feeling that sharing his problems didn't solve them by half.

"I've finished now," he said, noting her continued silence, but it didn't look like she was listening. She had a half-glazed look in her eyes, and was frowning slightly.

He squeezed her hand again but she pulled her hand from Harry's and put it up, as though to silence him. Harry was starting to feel a little aggrieved at this but Hermione sat up suddenly, concentrating hard. "Did you hear that?" she asked.

"Hear what?"

Hermione paused again and cocked her head. "That."

"I don't hear anything, Hermione."

"Shhh. It's getting louder." Hermione was obviously listening hard, then something in the sky seemed to catch her eye and her head darted around.

"What is it?" Harry asked, uncertain now.

"Don't you see that?" she asked a bit louder, turning to Harry. She stood up.

"What? The stars?" Harry was genuinely confused. To him, nothing in the sky had changed, but the look on Hermione's face said that she most definitely did see something. Her head was darting around, her body following her in circles.

"Can't you see it? Can't you hear the noise? It's so loud now!" Hermione was practically shouting now, as though trying to be heard over whatever she was hearing, when Harry could hear her perfectly well. Then suddenly she dropped to the ground, her hands over her ears.

"Make it stop!" she screamed.

Harry's concern now escalated into panic. What was happening to Hermione? He crawled over to her and took her in his arms as she kept crying out for whatever it was to stop.

Harry just held her, pulling her head into his chest as he looked around wildly for whatever it was that made her cry out like that. The night was still, not even the trees were moving. Hermione was muttering random words to herself that didn't make the slightest bit of sense to Harry.

Suddenly, Hermione pulled away from Harry and looked up at the sky, then all around them.

"It's - it's stopped," she said.

Harry shifted around to face her and took her face in his hands. "What was it Hermione?" he asked earnestly, worry etched on his face.

"I - I don't know. Didn't you see it?"

"No, nothing. But you're scaring me. What was it?"

"I - I'm not sure. The stars.... they fell. And that noise.... But I don't understand..." she said and pulled away from Harry to look upwards again.

"Tell me from the beginning," Harry encouraged.

Hermione pulled her gaze away from the sky for a moment and met Harry's own. "When you were talking, I realised how right you were about everything. Even why you're angry with me and Ron. It was like... like I reached this understanding of you that I've been looking for, and for so long. Before, it was like you'd disappeared and all we wanted was the old Harry back, the one that made us The Trio, but he seemed to have been lost. But for some reason, you chose to give yourself back just now and I felt as though you'd suddenly come home again after a really, really long trip away, and what you said.... you spoke to me in more ways than the words you were just saying. It's so hard to explain." Hermione looked away from Harry, as though embarrassed at what she'd just confessed, although it was obvious that it was important and necessary she say it for any of it to make sense, but something deep inside Harry's stomach contracted at Hermione's words. Some hidden realization of just what he'd put his friends through came to surface and edged his heart with guilt.

She continued. "As I listened to you, and realized that you were back again, because you had finally told me the things you so obviously have been wanting to say but couldn't, and I can't explain it, but as I was looking at the stars, they seemed to grow brighter. They almost seemed to pulse in time with your words. And then I heard something. It was.... like faint music to start with, then it got louder until it sounded like hundreds of fingernails running down a blackboard, over and over again. It was coming from all around us. And the stars, they started shifting. They were shooting all over the place and then they suddenly started falling down to the earth, like it was raining stars, and they were changing colour. But that noise..." She seemed to be babbling, each of her words tripping and tumbling over the rest, like she couldn't get them out fast enough.

Harry didn't know what to think; maybe she was hallucinating, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to say that to her, so all he said was: "You were saying something. I couldn't hear properly. I don't even know if it was English."

"I - I think I remember," Hermione said, but looked confused. "I don't remember the words, but I think it might have been Latin - I can't be sure. I don't know enough Latin to speak fluently..... I don't get it. Harry?" Now Hermione just looked questioningly confused, a look that Harry was almost shocked to see on his friend whom always seemed so confident and sure.

"Listen, I don't know what just happened, but I've never seen you look like that. I think we need to get you inside. It's almost curfew anyway."

Hermione nodded and as they stood up, Hermione snatched up the picnic blanket, frantically rolling it into a ball and stuffing it inside her cloak. She kept looking at the sky all around, and frowned a lot.

"Anything?" Harry asked her as they walked swiftly back to the castle.

"No, everything's.... just as it should be."

Harry rested his hand on the small of Hermione's back as they raced up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, feeling a need to make come sort of physical, reassuring contact with her, however small the gesture. As they reached the portrait hole, they saw Ron's feet crawling through ahead of them. They hurried in after him, and as they all came through the other side, Ron suddenly looked startled to see them so close behind him.

"Where'd you come from?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks, Harry grabbed Ron's arm and seeing that their usual table was occupied, pulled him over to a corner on the other side of the room. Ron looked a little affronted at being pushed like that, but didn't complain when he saw that they meant business.

In a whisper, the two quickly told Ron what had happened to Hermione outside. Ron didn't say anything until they were finished.

"Well, I would say it sounds like you were hallucinating, but... I dunno."

"What do you reckon?" Harry said.

Ron paused. "I tell you what; I've got Divination on Monday morning. Maybe I could ask Firenze. Centaurs are into the stars and planets and stuff. He might know what it was."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to say something unsavoury about this plan, but Ron caught her look and chastised her. "What? You have a better plan?" he asked and shrugged.

Hermione reluctantly shook her head, before rubbing the back of her hand against her forehead.

"I'm going to bed. I'm really tired," she said, before wearily heading to their usual table, at which two first years seemed to be looking mysteriously rebellious, picking up her homework and slowly climbing the stairs to her dormitory.

Harry and Ron watched her leave, Harry frowning after her worriedly.

"I'm going to try to finish some of this upstairs," Harry said as they walked over to their table and picked up his homework. He gave a polite, apologetic nod at the two first years.

"I may as well come with you. Don't fancy watching the porn competition in here," Ron said in reply, and helped Harry to carry some of his books as they headed up the stairs. "Hey, nice chair by the way..." he said fleetingly of the canary yellow and lime green striped chair. "Doesn't go with the décor though."

"Apparently we move onto hair lengthening charms after that," Harry said in reply.

"Sure you should be attempting something like that?" grinned Ron as they entered the dormitory.

"Oh, I dunno. I hear the Rapunzel look's in these days," Harry said absently.

"The what look?" Ron asked confusedly.

"Muggle fairytale," Harry answered in response to Ron's ignorance. Ron just shook his head like he thought Harry was mad.

As they entered the dormitory and dumped Harry's books on his bed, Harry's face took on a look of deep and serious concern.

"Do you think Hermione's going to be ok?"

"I hope so. It's not like we haven't got anything else to be concerned about as well as this..." Ron's voice trailed off quickly as he caught Harry's clouded look. Ron went over to his bed and took his pajamas out from under the pillow, but lay back on the pillow without getting changed.

Harry debated whether to tell Ron what he'd told Hermione, but couldn't muster the same emotional strength as he could for her. He thought it must be a guy thing. However, there was something he felt had to be said.

Without looking at Ron, Harry opened his Transfiguration textbook and unrolled a piece of parchment to start the homework assignment ("Write 6 inches on each of the three methods of constructing Portkeys and use one to make a Portkey that will transport you back to your own dormitory").

"Umm, Ron?" he asked slowly.

"That's me." Ron said absently, deeply engrossed already in the Chudley Cannons Newsletter.

"Listen, I just wanted to say, um, that I'm really sorry for being... well, like I have, er, lately." Harry kept his head down, but looked at Ron out of the corner of his eye. Ron had dropped the newsletter slightly, as though still reading it, but the tell-tale large, unfocused pupils in his eyes told Harry different.

After a moment's hesitation, and without looking up, Ron merely shook the newsletter straight and replied: "Welcome back, mate." Then he finally turned to give Harry a small half smile, one that washed over Harry like a wave of relief.

He smiled back at Ron, looked despairingly at the book in front of him, then turned back to Ron and asked, "D'you want to help me make a Portkey?"

As Ron and Harry gathered together the equipment they needed to make Harry's Portkey, Harry's insides squirmed consolingly again at how right Hermione always was. The torrent had been released, which actually did make things seem a little better, and he'd made some sort of peace with Ron as well.

He felt he had come home.