Broken Hearts Across the Way

Chapter 2

How Do We Tell?

"Why was it that the more advanced a civilization became in conquering sickness, the more expert in became in the destruction of human life?" - Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

The next morning, Ron wasn't his usual self. Granted, it was early, and no one's really peppy in the morning, but Ron looked as though he'd hit by a freight train. He was distracted and stared off into space often. He was paler than ever, his freckles losing their usual energy, and his eyes were dark and sunken. As he ate his breakfast, Harry noted that Ron's hand trembled slightly as he brought the fork to his mouth. He glanced across the table to Hermione, and he could tell by the expression on her face that she noticed it, too.

Mrs. Weasley came over to them. "Ron, are you feeling well, dear? You look awfully pale." She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "And you're quite warm."

Mrs. Weasley knew that Ron had been attacked by the brain all that time ago, so she knew where the scars on his arms came from. But Ron never told her about the bouts of hysteria that took him. For a while, Ron would put a Silencing Charm on himself before going to sleep, because the scenes would take him in his sleep. He tried to keep them to himself for a few months, but Harry found out about them in his sixth year when Ron fell asleep before he could Silence himself. They came more often then.

Ron jerked his head away from his mother's hand. "Quit it, Mum; I'm fine. I'm just a little nervous about this being my last year at Hogwarts." He looked at Hermione and Harry, his eyes asking for agreement and cover.

"Yeah, me too," Hermione piped up. "I mean, my stomach's all fluttery just thinking abut being Head Girl on top of everything else."

"Ditto to what Hermione said," Harry said. "Except to the part about being a girl," he added.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at them. "Well, alright. When you three are finished eating, go bring your things downstairs. Oh, and Harry, Hedwig went out late last night and hasn't come back yet. You'll see her at Hogwarts."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

She smiled again and walked to the other end of the table to finish her own breakfast. Ron stood, still with half a plate of food in front of him, and disappeared up the stairway.

Hermione leaned over the basket of muffins in front of her and lowered her voice. "Did Ron talk to you at all this morning?"

"No," Harry whispered back. "He was up before I was, and when he finished his shower, he got dressed and went downstairs, mumbling something about being hungry, without so much as a glance in my direction."

Hermione's eyes wandered to Ron's plate. "When was the last time he didn't finish eating?"

"Never."

"For some reason, that worries me more than the way he's acting. He's acted all detached and depressed before, but even then he ate." She sighed and looked at Harry. "We have to talk to him."

"I though we were going to wait."

"Not about that; about his episodes. They can't be very good for him." She chewed her lip nervously.

"I don't know, Hermione; he might not be willing to talk about it."

She waved her hand at him. "That doesn't matter. We're his best friends; we'll just gently coax him into talking."

Harry still felt wary, but agreed. "Okay, but we have to do it slowly; ease it out of him."

Mrs. Weasley's voice interrupted them. "Hurry up, you two. We're leaving in twenty minuets."

Harry drained his glass of juice as he stood, walked to the sink and placed his plate in it. Hermione followed suit. He pulled her into him as the reached the top of stairs. Instead of kissing her, he pulled her into her and whispered in her ear, "Let me start when we talk to Ron. I know what it's like to have strange visions and then be probed about them."

"Okay." She kissed him quickly on the cheek and disappeared into Ginny's room. As Harry climbed the stairs to Ron's room, the red head pushed past, dragging his trunk behind him, broom tucked under his arm, and holding his birdcage above his head.

Getting him to sit down with us and listen, let alone talk, will be a challenge, Harry thought. He climbed the stairs and walked in the room. Ron seemed to have packed hurriedly, with the sole purpose of missing Harry and Hermione coming up. His dresser drawers were opened, clothes spilling over the edges; the old paper from Pig's cage was lying on top of his bed. Harry shook his head and tucked Hedwig's under his arm. He grabbed his trunk and rested his Firebolt on his shoulder.

"Nearly impossible."

*~-~*

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley crew, accompanied by Lupin and Tonks, walked through the King's Cross. Among them were three broomsticks, one empty birdcage, one twittering owl, and a hissing cat. Needless to say, more than one person stopped to watch them pass by.

They reached the entrance to Platform 9¾ with about ten minuets to spare. Ron hurried through first, quickly followed Charlie and Bill. Ginny went next, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Last to go were Lupin, Harry, Hermione, and Tonks, in that order. By the time Harry got onto the platform Ron was waving goodbye to his family and rushing onto the train. Charlie cam over to him and took his trolley.

"What was that all about?"

"We asked Ron to go ahead and save us an empty compartment," Harry answered without the slightest hesitation.

Mrs. Weasley rushed up to them. "Do you two have everything you need?"

"Yes, don't worry," Hermione responded.

Harry said nothing. He looked past Mrs. Weasley and spotted Dean, with a woman, who, on seeing her nose and eyes, Harry was sure was Dean's mother. "Hold on, Mrs. Weasley; I just want to say hi to Dean. I'll be right back." He strolled toward Dean, waving to get his attention as he neared. Dean smiled and waved back.

As he got closer, Harry saw more resemblance in Dean and his mother. Their dimples and fair skin were almost identical.

"Hullo, Harry. This is my mom. Mom, this is Harry Potter."

As Harry held out his hand to her, he saw the faintest glimmer of something in her eyes. It looked like wanted realization; when you remember something, but it's just out of reach of your mind's grasp. It disappeared within a moment, and was replaced by a smile that also spread across her lips. She took Harry's hand and shook it.

"It's nice to finally meet you Harry. I've heard much about you from Dean, but I'm sure you get that all the time."

Mrs. Thomas had a gorgeous, singsong voice. Harry almost thought he could some how place it, but it was probably just from being on the platform before.

Harry smiled in return. "It's nice to meet you, too. But I have to go and say goodbye to the Weasleys. I'll see you later, Dean."

Dean waved a farewell as Harry turned and headed back.

The whistle screamed as Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry tightly. "Have a good year. And if you ever need anything, you just send Hedwig and I'll send it back straight away."

Harry waved goodbye to everyone and followed Hermione onto the Express.

She turned around to him. "I'm going to see if I can find the Head Boy; I've no idea who he is. You go and see if you can track down Ron, and try to get him to open up just a little." She turned again and disappeared into the front of the train.

Harry ambled through the cars, searching for the compartment that was hiding Ron. On his pursuit, he saw Seamus, Lavender, Colin, and to his surprise, Ginny.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when he came across her.

"I was sitting with Ron, to see if he was feeling better, but he made me leave. I hope he's okay."

Harry's heart went out to her. He didn't have any brothers or sisters, so he never really knew brotherly love it a family sense. But Ron came in at a damn near second. "Don't worry; I'll talk to him." He slid closed the door with a goodbye and continued with his search for Ron.

After a few more minuets, he stumbled upon Ron's compartment. Inside, he was shocked to find Luna, a Ravenclaw sixth year he'd met the previous year. His mind swirled as memories of the Ministry can barging uninvited into his head.

She sat quietly across from Ron, reading her father's magazine, The Quibbler; upside down, as usual. Ron was staring blackly out the window, apparently unaware of Luna's presence.

"Umm...Luna? Do you think I could talk to Ron alone for a few minuets?" Both Luan and Ron looked up at the same time, Ron looking at Luna, trying to sort out how she got there.

Luna smiled her usual dreamy smile. "No problem." She quickly stood, and with a small wave to Ron, walked past Harry.

Harry sat down directly across from his friend. "Ron?" Ron ignored him and stared out the window. "Ron!" Harry repeated harshly. Ron stiffly turned toward Harry, his eyes still sad and sunken.

"Ron, did what happen tonight ever happen before?"

Ron didn't answer, and returned his gaze to the speeding hills out the window.

"Did it, Ron? You can tell me; I'm your best friend, I won't tell any one if you don't want. Not even Hermione."

"You've no idea." Ron's voice came as a horse whisper.

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "About what; having visions? You're a tad off there, mate. I've had my fair share."

"No; not that." Harry had to strain his ears to hear his friend. "To see the kind of visions I do. You've told me about your visions; safe, nothing happening that's that bad."

"What do you see Ron?"

He continued to stare out the window.

"Ron."

"Yes."

"Yes about what?"

"Last night; it's happened before. It feels like my soul is being torn from me piece by piece."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Harry asked with heavy exasperation. "We can help. We'll go to Dumbledore."

"No!" Ron's face was awfully pale as he spoke the one word roughly. "We're not going to Dumbledore. He'll only want to know I see, and I'm not telling him or anyone else. I'm managing fine on my own." He set his face and fixed his gaze out the window. Harry decided not to press the issue.

A few minuets later, Hermione walked into the compartment, with a mixed look of anger and confusion. She sat down next to Harry.

"What's the matter with him?" she asked Harry, looking at Ron.

"He opened a little." Hermione's expression lit a bit. "Don't press him. He asked that I didn't tell anyone. He'll tell you when he's ready.

"And what about you; what's that look for?"

"Do you know who Head Boy is?"

"Ernie?"

"No; worse. Malfoy."

Harry stared at her with disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me." Hermione shook her. "That's crazy. The Head Boy and Girl's rooms are next to each other and practically hidden in the castle. Malfoy'll kill you."

"I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore when we get to Hogwarts; perhaps it's a mistake."

"I'll go with you; I need to talk with him, too."

"What for?"

Harry glanced at Ron. "Um, about my scar, and the mood impressions of Voldemort." Even in his sedated state, Ron flinched at the name.

"We must be getting close to the castle," Hermione said. "We should get changed." She looked at Ron, who made no effort to move. "I'll find another compartment to change in." She grabbed her robes and walked out.

Ron paid no attention to the movement and didn't change; his blank eyes staring at nothing in particular. After Harry changed, he set out to find Hermione.

After a few minuets of looking he gave up, and stood and looked out the window. His heart and mind were heavy with concern and guilt.

As the Hogwarts castle slowly grew in the distance, Harry found himself less than excited to be here.

*~-~*

The moment the reached the castle doors, Harry and Hermione set off toward Dumbledore's office. They didn't worry about leaving Ron behind; the moment the train stopped, he'd jumped off and scrambled into the quickly filling carriages, leaving Harry and Hermione behind. For a moment before getting on, Ron stared at the empty space before the carriage, as if gazing at the thestral that pulled it. It soon passed.

Harry led the way, being the only person on the lonesome duo to know where it was. They climbed the stairs to his office entrance just as Dumbledore appeared at the top.

"Hello Harry; Miss Granger." His eyes twinkled as they reached the top. "You two seem to be a long way from the Great Hall. Is there something that you are looking for?"

"Actually, Professor, we were wondering if we could have a word with you before the feast," Hermione said

"We will miss the Sorting, which I do enjoy," he started, and then saw the desperate look on their faces. "But, it seems important, so, this once, I will miss it."

"Thank you," Harry said as Dumbledore led them to his entrance.

"Ice Mice," he said in a clear voice. The door swung inward, and he entered, with Harry and Hermione quick on his heels.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, and motioned for them to do the same. They quickly lowered themselves into the wooden chairs facing him. "So," he began, folding his hands on the desk, "what seems to be the urgency?"

"It's Ron," Harry blurted out. Hermione looked at him with a face that made him fade into invisibility.

Dumbledore smiled. "And what's the problem with Mr. Weasley?"

"Well, he didn't want us to tell anyone," Hermione said, her voice wavering, "but ever since he was attacked by the brain, he's had... episodes."

Dumbledore said nothing, so Harry continued the conversation. "Last night was the worst we'd ever seen. It was... horrifying."

Dumbledore sighed, as if expecting it. "I was waiting for this to happen."

"So you know what's happening to Ron?"

Dumbledore sat silent for a moment. "Yes and no," he said finally, again motioning for them to sit down. When they were seated, he continued.

"You both know of the Memory Charm, do you not?" As Harry, nodded his mind wandered back to the Chamber of Secrets, where he and Ron had almost lost their own memories. "Well, after a memory has been diminished from a person's mind, they all must go some where. And that somewhere is in the Department of Mysteries."

"Are you saying that all the brains are holding memories that have been forgotten with the charm?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

"But how is that possible? There must be billions upon billions of memories that have been blasted away, and there were only a few dozen brains."

The professor smiled. "Let me ask you something, Miss Granger. How much of their brain does a muggle use?"

"About ten percent."

"Excellent. And a wizard?"

Hermione's eyes blurred as she quickly scanned her own memory. "We use twelve to fifteen percent."

"And look at how much more ability we have with that little percentage. Now, both of you imagine if we used one hundred percent."

Harry's eyes widened with comprehension. "My god; that would be incredible. Our memories would be vast! We could hold so much information."

"Precisely."

"So what you are saying is that the brains in the tank use the entire whole of their abilities."

"Which is why they can hold so many memories."

"But that's awful!"

Harry turned to look at Hermione, who had a look of terror on her face. She turned to him, to see the confused look on his own. "The knowledge they hold is deadly. They know all human weaknesses; how to get by our strengths; how to destroy us."

Dumbledore's face was grave. "Which is why we keep them hidden in the Department of Mysteries."

"Why do we allow them to exist?" Harry asked.

"Because we hold exposure of our kind and our own comfort in higher regard than the safety of others," Dumbledore replied sadly.

The three sat in silence for a few moments, thinking.

"So, what about Ron?" Harry asked, shattering the silence.

"Well, can you imagine holding all those horrible memories for eternity?" Dumbledore replied.

"No," Harry replied truthfully.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, let's imagine you can. Wouldn't you take any chance you can get to rid yourself of even one?"

"So Ron is being haunted by an awful memory that the brain transferred to him," Hermione said.

"Unfortunately."

"That's awful," Hermione said, her eyes brimming with tears. "And he's been holding it all in for over a year."

"Yes well, I'm afraid there is nothing we can do about it. We can only wait until the memory slips back into the farthest reaches of Mr. Weasley's mind." Dumbledore smiled and sat up straight, changing his demeanor entirely. "I believe that you had something you wanted to speak to me about, Miss Granger."

Hermione wiped her eyes. "Um... yes. I was wondering about your decision about Head Boy."

"You feel that I made a mistake choosing Mr. Malfoy." He flashed his all-knowing smile.

"No, no; it's just that well... We're so far away from everyone else and alone, and he hates me so..."

"Ms. Granger, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Mr. Malfoy will be civil you are."

"That's ridiculous," Harry interjected. "He hates her. There's no way that Malfoy'll be 'civil' to Hermione."

"I have faith in him."

Hermione sat quietly for a moment, staring at Dumbledore, searching his eyes. She sighed heavily. "Alright; I guess if you have faith in him, I'll give him a try." She got up from her chair.

Harry looked at Dumbledore for a moment longer, and then stood up himself. "Okay. But if Malfoy does one thing, even look at her wrong, I don't think I'll be able to control my actions."

Dumbledore smiled at them both. "No worries, Mr. Potter. Nothing will come to harm your - what are the kids calling it these days - 'main squeeze.'"

Harry and Hermione gaped at him. "What?" Hermione squeaked.

"Is that the wrong term? I really must learn your lingo properly. What is it now; 'boo?'"

"How did you -" Harry stammered.

"In your eyes; in your voices; in your actions. It is more how didn't I know. But don't worry. I won't say anything if you don't want me to."

Harry managed a wavering smile. "Thanks professor. Are you coming down with us?"

"In a moment. I have just one thing I have to do." He smiled again.

"Okay." He opened the door, and he and Hermione walked out of the office.

When they reached the hallway, Hermione placed a hand on Harry's arm, stopping him.

"Harry, if Dumbledore said it was obvious, how is Ron not supposed to notice?"

Harry gulped and looked at Hermione.

"Well, it will be quite a challenge; won't it?"