The Resurrection of Sirius

8

Healing

"Omigod! Oh no oh no oh no..." Hermione was kneeling down, her left hand in her right and holding her hands against her chest, rocking back and forth.

Willow ran to Harry. She felt his pulse.

Hermione felt as if she couldn't breathe. Finally she managed to say, "Is he alive?"

"I -- I don't -- I don't -- th-think so."

"No!" Hermione had walked over to Willow and Harry's dead, limp body, but now she fell to her knees again. She put her arms out in front of her, her left hand over her right, and lowered her head. Harry was dead, and it was her fault. She began to cry.

Willow walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, it -- it'll be okay."

"N-no it won't." Hermione raised her head to look at Willow. "H-Harry's dead, and it's m-my fault!"

Willow shook her head. "No it's not. Of course it's not."

"Yes it is!" Hermione was starting to feel a little bit angry. "I'm the one who called his name, and -- and --" She couldn't speak. She felt sick. Her friend was dead. Just like that. Gone.

"Listen, Hermione, we may be able to help him."

"Help him?!" Hermione squealed. "How can we help him? He's dead!"

"I know that, but Hermione, if we can just get him to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey may be able to -- to bring him back."

Hermione sniffed. "Well then, what the hell are we waiting for?" She got up. "Let's go! Do that little spell-thingy you did a minute ago!"

Willow got up. "Um -- can you take his arms? I'll get his legs."

Hermione took them. "Let's go!"

Willow muttered the incantation again, and they were suddenly in the Hospital Wing.

"Put him down," Willow said, setting his legs down on the foot of a nearby bed. Hermione nodded and set Harry down.

Willow walked to the back of the ward to an office door. She knocked and said, "Poppy? You'd better get out here."

Madam Pomfrey walked out a moment later. "What is it?" She saw Harry's body and gasped. "What happened?"

Willow hesitated. "He fell. On his head. Off -- off a cliff."

"Off a cliff?!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, checking Harry's pulse.

"It's a long story. Can you do anything?"

"Of course I can."

Hermione finally said something. "But -- but he's dead! How can you --?"

"Dead? No, he's not! He's alive, but barely. His pulse is very slow. Had you waited much longer, he probably would have died, but you wouldn't have noticed. Now I have to ask you to leave --"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Willow cut in with her telepathy.

"Don't bother. Just do what she says, it'll make things go quicker."

Madam Pomfrey kept talking. "-- But he'll be better in about a fortnight or so. You'll be able to visit him," she said at the look on Hermione's face. "But he won't be conscious for at least a few days."

Hermione nodded and turned to leave.

* * * * *

Ron tried to do some reading, but it was no use. He couldn't stop thinking. Was Harry okay? Would Willow and Hermione find him in time? Was Harry still alive?

"Hey, Ron, where were you at dinner?"

"I wasn't hungry, Neville."

"Whoa, Ron, are you okay? You weren't hungry and you're reading?" This time it was Seamus who spoke.

"Actually, I don't think I am. I don't feel very well --"

"Hospital," Seamus said before Ron could finish.

"No, I -- I think I'm just tired." Ron yawned a fake yawn. "Think I'll go to bed early." He got up and went upstairs.

But when he got there, he did not feel very tired. He was dizzy, and his stomach hurt. He expected it might be hungry, but he hadn't been before, and his stomach wasn't rumbling. He had a nasty taste in his mouth, and something inside him churned. Oh, God. He ran to the window and opened it, just in time. He threw up out the window. Hopefully no one was out there under the window.

Wiping his mouth, Ron closed the window and ran out of Gryffindor. He had to stop running, because it made him feel like he would hurl again. So he slowed to a quick walk and continued on to the Hospital Wing.

When he got there, he saw Madam Pomfrey bending over someone, Willow at her side. Oh no. Willow being there probably meant it was either Harry or Hermione. He sat down on a bed and waited.

About ten minutes later, still having been ignored, Ron got up and walked over to the bed.

"Er, Madam Pomfrey?"

Madam Pomfrey turned around. "Yes, what's the matter?"

"Um -- I think I'm sick. I know I'm sick."

"Well, I'm rather busy right now. Willow, do you think you could --?"

"Of course. What's wrong, Ron?"

"Well, like I said, I'm sick... I just threw up out the window in Gryffindor, and my -- my head hurts and so does my stomach."

Willow nodded and she walked off to get something, most likely some nasty potion for him to take. Madam Pomfrey walked over to her office as well, and Ron looked over at the bed. It was Harry. He didn't look too good. His neck looked like it was turned too far to the side, and he had a bad cut on his left leg, which was magically levitated. His left knee was all purple, as if it was broken. He looked as if he'd gotten into a fight with a troll, or maybe a giant.

"Here. Take this and in ten minutes, see how you feel." Willow handed Ron a glass with some pinkish liquid in it. It was smoking.

Ron took the glass from Willow and sniffed it. It didn't smell too bad. It almost smelt like strawberries. He lifted the glass to his mouth and took a small sip. It was strawberry! He gulped down the rest of it and nodded. Willow took the glass from him and went to the back of the room again.

* * * * *

"Have you seen Ron anywhere?"

"Yeah, he just went up to bed I think," Seamus said.

Hermione ran upstairs. "Ron?" There was no answer. Sighing, Hermione walked over to Ron's bed and pulled open the hangings. He wasn't there.

"Did you say he went up to bed?"

"Yeah, I thought so --"

"No, I think he left Gryffindor. He didn't look so good, maybe he went to the Hospital Wing?" Dean Thomas suggested.

Hermione turned and headed for the door. Weird, she thought. Why wouldn't I've seen him on my way back?

* * * * *

"Well, how do you feel? Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Willow."

"No problem. You can head up to Gryffindor now."

The door to the Hospital Wing opened and Hermione walked in.

"Ron, what're you doing here?" Hermione tried to sound casual, but her voice was higher than usual.

"I didn't feel well. I was just leaving, though." Ron smiled inside. He was happy that Hermione was here, and even happier that she was okay.

* * * * *

"So... Harry fell and landed on his head?"

"Yes." Hermione shuddered.

Ron was amazed. "He's lucky to be alive," Ron said.

"I'll be lucky if I'm alive when Harry gets better," Hermione said.

"Oh come on, he won't be that mad."

"Are we talking about the same Harry here? Come on Ron, you've seen Harry's temper."

Hermione had a point. Harry was liable to explode if someone told him he was not the most important person in the world.

"Yeah, right. Maybe we can make him think it was Willow who said his name."

"What, just so he'll hate her and you can have her to yourself?"

"Yeah." Ron knew Hermione could tell he was joking.

"You're a pig, Ron," Hermione said, faking a glare at Ron.

"Now I've heard that one before." Willow came up behind Ron, and he jumped. Hermione hid her laughter by stuffing her face with food (Ron and Hermione were eating dinner in the Great Hall.)

"Really? Where?" Ron turned around in his seat to look at Willow.

"Buffy always used to call Spike a pig."

"Huh?" Ron did not know of a Spike or a Buffy.

"Buffy was -- is -- my best friend. Spike's a vampire."

"You knew a vampire?"

"Yeah, I knew a lot of them actually. Vampires were pretty common on the Hellmouth. Anyway, Spike was a vampire and he and Buffy really despised each other, so she was always calling him a pig."

Ron gazed at Willow in awe. Hermione kicked him under the table. "Wha -- oh. That's neat. But, just for the record, I'm not a vampire. And my name's not Spike," Ron added.

Willow grinned at Ron and continued to the teacher's table.

"Suck up," Hermione told Ron.

"Me? I'm not a suck up! Look who went on the big scary mission with her!"

"Yeah, well look who keeps doing things to make her tell you a little story."

"Oh yeah, well -- well -- well -- well who's the one who made Harry fall off a cliff?"

Hermione stopped smiling. "That's not funny, Ron." Hermione got up from the table and left the Great Hall.

Shit. Now I've done it, Ron thought. Ginny had been eavesdropping on Ron and Hermione, and now she spoke up.

"You idiot, are you going to go after her?"

"Yes, I was about to!" Ron said, getting up and heading after her.

* * * * *

Hermione walked as slowly as possible. Come on, you big weirdo, she thought as she bent down to tie her perfectly tightly tied shoe.

"Hermione!" Hermione looked up. Score. She stood up to meet Ron.

"What do you want, Ronald?"

"I -- I didn't mean to insult you back there. I'm sorry." Hermione couldn't help but grin. He was so pathetic, but it was so cute!

"It's fine," she said. Obviously, she hadn't been insulted, but Ron being Ron, he fell for it all the way.

"So -- so we're cool?"

"Of course." Hermione tried to think of a way to provoke another "flirt-fight," but nothing came to mind.

"Have you finished your homework yet?" was the best she could do. Hopefully, Ron would say no so she could make fun of him.

"No," Ron said.

"Well then, why don't you do that, and I'll hover over your back and correct everything you do wrong. Which, I'm sure, will be... Everything."

Just as planned, Ron took the bait. "Now look here, you old bat, I was going to do it today, but then Harry ran away and you and Willow took off and it slipped my mind --"

"I'm sure," Hermione said. She'd forgotten about her shoe, which she'd untied so she could tie it again. She never tied it back up, and Ron stepped on it without noticing. Hermione fell.

Ron burst out laughing. "Hermione, are you okay?" he said, between laughs.

This hadn't been planned, but it might do for Hermione. If Ron wasn't too stupid. "Yeah, I'm fine." She reached out her hand, and Ron took it to help her up. "Thanks," she said slowly. She moved her feet close to Ron's, so that when she stood up, she'd be standing right in front of him.

"Hermione -- did I ever tell you that you have beautiful eyes?"

She shook her head. "You've never given me a complement that sounded like one before in my life," she said. He smiled. She smiled back. If Ron didn't take this bait, Hermione would have to give up on him.

Ron leaned in to kiss Hermione. She kissed him back. It would have been much more romantic if they weren't in the middle of the Entrance Hall, and if dinner wasn't just ending for most students. Even more so if Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson weren't coming out of the Hall.

"Well well, what do we have here! Look, it's the Mudblood and the Weasel!" Ron and Hermione broke up their kiss.

"Oh, they make such a cute couple! Now let me hurl," Pansy said. Malfoy laughed.

Ron walked up to Malfoy and put his arm around his neck.

"Malfoy, do we remember what I said earlier?"

Malfoy's eyes widened in horror. He turned to Pansy. "Come on, let's go find the rest of the guys and tell them the wonderfully disturbing news." Pansy looked confused, but she followed Malfoy down to the dungeons.

Ron turned to Hermione. "What?" he said.

"What did you say to him earlier that made him so afraid of you?" she asked, smiling.

"Oh, nothing. I just reminded him of when you hit him in third year and told him that if he bugged us again I'd make him hurt so bad he wouldn't need to fake it for ages."

Hermione laughed. "You told him that?"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

"Amazing." Ron was actually able to defend himself without actually hurting anyone, even with Harry and Hermione not there to stop him.

Ron looked confused, but he offered Hermione his arm and they headed up to Gryffindor together, having finally shared their first kiss.

* * * * *

The following week, Ron and Hermione decided to go visit Harry in the Hospital Wing.

"He's still out cold," Madam Pomfrey said, but she allowed them to sit by his bed anyway.

"He looks awful," Ron said. There was an ugly bruise on his neck now, and the cut on his leg was starting to scar. There was another bruise surrounding an enormous welt on his forehead.

Hermione inhaled through clenched teeth. "He looks terrible. I can't believe I --"

Ron put his hand on Hermione's. Over the week, Hermione had sometimes begun to blame herself, and every time she started to cry. Somehow, Ron's hand seemed to help her feel better. He would sometimes look at his hand while he was trying to sleep, but it didn't look very special. It must be a girl thing. Whenever Hermione, or any other girl for that matter, did something he didn't understand, he blamed it on her being a girl.

Hermione looked up at Ron. "Oh, I know it's not my fault. It's just that -- I did call his name."

Ron nodded. "Okay, well now would be a good time to say something helpful and wise, but nothing's coming to mind, so I'm just going to listen and pretend I understand."

Hermione smiled, although Ron didn't find what he said very funny. Again, a girl thing. Ron placed his hand on Harry's.

"Come on mate, wake up." Hermione looked at Ron. "What? I touched his hand! Not a sexual thing!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. "That's not why I looked at you, you wart. I looked at you because he's your best friend, and you were talking to him while he's in a coma, and people usually look at someone in your position."

"Oh. I knew that."

"Sure you did."

"No, I did!"

"Uh huh, and you also knew that one plus one is two," Hermione teased.

Somehow, since they'd kissed, Hermione was a bit more sarcastic than usual. Ron liked it. Not that he didn't like Hermione when she was always very serious, but sarcastic Hermione was more fun.

Harry moved his head. Hermione gasped.

"Ron, Ron did you see that! His head moved!"

"What is it with this hand!" Ron exclaimed, holding his hand in front of his face and looking at it.

"Hmm..." Harry moaned. Hermione looked at Ron for a moment about his hand exclamation, but she turned to Harry right away.

Harry shook his head a little and moaned again.

"Harry?" Ron looked at Harry sternly.

* * * * *

Harry's head hurt. It hurt a lot. His eyelids felt heavy and he could not open them. His head was spinning, and it felt too big. He tried to move, but he could not.

"Look, he keeps twitching." Harry could not figure out who was talking, but the voice sounded familiar. It also sounded as if someone were speaking with a megaphone two inches away from his ear. He tried to cover his ears, or tell the person to be quieter.

"Mmfmm," was all that came out.

"I think he's trying to say something." The voice was a bit quieter, but it was still loud. It was deep, and confident. Was it Ron?

"Why won't he open his eyes?"

"Well gee, Ron, maybe they're a bit heavy after having been closed for a week." That might be Hermione.

"Well it's just that I've never seen someone wake up from a coma, and I'm not quite used to it --"

"Ron will you stop talking?" There was silence. Then --

"Only if you make me."

"You're a pig."

Harry forced his eyes open just in time to see Ron and Hermione snogging. He snapped his eyes shut again before they could stop kissing and see him. He coughed quietly to get Ron's and Hermione's attention, then forced a few words out of his mouth.

"Just -- what I've -- always wanted -- welcome party," he said weakly. He opened his eyes as slowly as possible.

"Harry! Oh, we're so glad you're awake!" Hermione went to throw her hands around Harry's neck, but Ron held her back. Good thing, too, because Harry's head hurt too badly to be hugged.

Harry squinted up at the two of them. Then he grinned. "Hey guys," he said. "How long was I out?" His voice was weak -- it hurt his head and throat too much to talk loudly.

Ron squinted one eye and looked up at the ceiling, counting on his fingers.

"About... Eight days."

Eight days. That was a long time. So that would make today...

"Ron, you cannot count. From Sunday to the next Tuesday is nine days," Hermione said.

"Tuesday? It's Tuesday?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, so?"

"What classes did I miss?"

"Transfigurations and Charms four times, and Potions and DADA three times," Ron said. "I got all the work for you, so you can do that."

Madam Pomfrey suddenly emerged from her office. Harry didn't notice at first.

"Thanks. It's not too hard, is it?" Harry clenched his teeth.

"No. I flew through it," Hermione assured him. "Well, at least the stuff for McGonagall and Flitwick."

"Yeah, and your brain is a Firebolt when it comes to school work. Take it from someone with the same brainpower as you, it wasn't too bad. Didn't take more than an hour to do it all -- well, from each day..."

"Is he awake?" Madam Pomfrey suddenly asked.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"And you chose not to tell me? Now leave, leave! He needs rest."

"Madam Pomfrey, I've just been sleeping for three days. I don't think I need too much rest."

"You have not been sleeping, you've been in a coma. There is a difference. Now you two, I've got to get him a Potion, and when I come back I want you gone." With that, Madam Pomfrey turned and walked to her office.

"Well. See you later, then," Harry said.

"Bye, Harry," Ron and Hermione said. Ron lifted his hand from his side in a half-hearted wave and rushed to open the door for Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey came back with a glass and a bottle of bright blue liquid. "Now this isn't going to go down well, but you must drink it. It'll help you get better sooner," she said, pouring some liquid and handing Harry the glass. Harry took it and downed it as quickly as possible. It tasted terrible.

"You'll have to take two glasses a day for at least three days," Madam Pomfrey said as she screwed the lid onto the bottle and turned away. Harry sighed. He did not like the healing process; it tasted like morning breath when you had had onions at dinner and burned his throat.

9

Finding the Power

Hermione pretended to go the library after dinner. "I've got an essay for Muggle Studies due tomorrow I haven't started yet," she lied. She didn't like lying to Ron, but she couldn't just say, "Well, I'm going to go and learn Wicca from Willow."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You what? You procrastinated? Good job, Herm!"

"Yeah. See you," Hermione said.

* * * * *

She knocked on Willow's office door.

"Hermione, hi! Come right in." Willow stood back and opened the door all the way for Hermione.

"What kind of stuff am I going to be starting with?"

"Actually, I think you're smart enough to handle something pretty powerful at first. If you want to. I don't want to rush you in to anything."

"I don't know... I think something simple would be better, you know, just for practice."

Willow nodded. "Fine. Then... How about raising something?"

"You mean levitating?"

"Not really. Watch." She looked at a pile of books and extended her hand. After a second, the book on top flew to her.

"How..."

"It's easy. All you do is concentrate on the book coming to you. You have to concentrate very hard..."

Hermione looked at the books, cocked her head, and extended her hand. Nothing happened. She thought the incantation of a summoning spell, thinking maybe that would help. It didn't.

"You've got to clear your mind of everything but the book coming to you. Don't think words. Just picture the book flying towards you."

Hermione pictured, but nothing was happening.

"Try closing your eyes, that usually helps at first."

Hermione closed her eyes, imaging the book in her hands, and extended her hand. She waited for a moment, then opened one eye. The book was not budging.

"Clear your mind of everything. Think of nothing but holding that book."

"Oh Willow, it's no use! Nothing's happening."

"Okay, we'll try something a little lighter." Willow got up and walked to her desk. She picked up a pencil and put it on top of the books. "Try that pencil."

Hermione closed her eyes, cleared her mind, pictured herself holding the pencil, and extended her hand.

"Hermione, you almost did it! It sort of rolled closer to you."

Hermione opened her eyes. Sure enough, the pencil had rolled off of the books and was lying about six inches away from them. She wasn't sure if it had rolled from the fall, or if she had made the pencil get closer to her. Either way, it was cool.

Willow put the pencil back on the books. "Okay, try again, and this time, try to concentrate even harder on holding that pencil. Don't think of it coming to you; just think of it in your hands. And don't close your eyes so hard."

Hermione loosened her eyes a little. She reached out for the pencil and caught it. She opened her eyes.

"Willow, I did it! I made the pencil come!"

Willow smiled. "That's great. This stuff is way easy, though. Do you have your wand?"

Hermione nodded.

"Why don't you try getting that." Hermione handed her wand to Willow, who set it on the windowsill. "Think you can get it from there?"

Hermione nodded. She closed her eyes yet again. The wand was in her hand... The wand was in her hand... She closed her open hand around the wand and opened her eyes.

"You're really getting the hang of this! Now let's try a book." Willow took a smaller book from the bottom of the pile and set it on top.

Hermione closed her eyes, and almost as soon as she extended her hand, she felt the book in it. Willow took it from her and put it on the bottom.

"Get that one without making the others fall. And try doing it without closing your eyes."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the book. She held out her hand and it came, but the books on top of it fell.

Willow re-stacked the books. Hermione extended her hand and the bottom book came, again causing the others to fall.

"Try it like this first." Willow moved her hand in an arch, causing the books on top to lift up, move to the side, and set down.

Hermione did the same. It worked the first time.

"Great! Now, see if you can do it like this." Willow jerked her head upwards and the top books lifted up, and she extended her hand to get the bottom book. Then she set the others down by jerking her head down once.

Hermione tried it; at first, all of the books lifted; she compromised by jerking her head and extending her hand at the same time.

Willow nodded. "Okay, now see if you can do it and not move the other books."

Hermione exhaled slowly, reached out her hand, and the book on bottom flew to her, the other books setting down softly with a small thump.

"You did it! That was great. Try opening and closing the door." Willow reached out to the closet door and moved her hand to the right. The door opened. Then she moved her hand to the left and it closed.

Hermione nodded once and did the same. It worked on the first try. She was surprised. "Why was that so --"

"It's because you're getting used to your powers. It took me a little longer to do things like this perfectly every time, but I didn't have someone to help me. Also, I wasn't already a witch. I had no power yet -- I was developing my own power."

"You got this powerful by yourself?" Hermione was dumbfounded.

Willow nodded. "That's not the point. Okay, let's try for something a bit more difficult. Can you do... this?" Willow lifted the bed.

Hermione tried it. The bed sort of shook, as if it was trying not to be lifted. She couldn't do it. She dropped her hand, breathing heavier.

"Okay, okay. I think that's enough for today."

"No, I -- I want to keep trying."

"You don't want to strain yourself, Hermione. It could lead to trouble. Let's see... We can just do this every Thursday at this time, would that work?"

Hermione nodded.

"Okay. See you next week, then."

Hermione walked as slowly as possible. She'd only been in Willow's office for half an hour, and even she couldn't write an entire essay in thirty minutes. So she was walking slowly back to Gryffindor, wasting time so Ron would assume she was still writing.

She got to Gryffindor in about fifteen minutes. Ron was sitting alone, reading. Reading?

"Ron, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," Ron said, snapping the book shut and putting it behind his back.

"You were reading."

"Was not. I mean -- yeah, it was homework."

"Mm hmm. I'm gonna believe that," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Yes you are," Ron said.

"Well, what d'you want to do?"

"We could play chess," Ron suggested.

"I'm not very good." Then again, no one was very good when they were playing against Ron.

"I'll teach you."

Hermione shrugged. "Okay."

Ron got up and ran for the boys' dormitories. Hermione looked out the window. The sun was just setting, and the sky was a deep purple. It was beautiful.

Ron came back and set the chessboard on the table between them.

"Okay, now the trick is to assume the worst of your opponent," he said, setting up the board.

"What do you mean?"

"If you see a move I could make that would get rid of one of your pieces, assume I'm going to make it. If there's two I can make, know your priorities. Obviously, your King is the most important. The Queen is always good to keep around, too. The pawns matter the least, so if you have to make a sacrifice, try to do those guys in first. The rooks, bishops, and the knights are pretty much equal in value, but they're less important than the King and Queen. Got it?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good. I'll go first this time. Pawn to D1," he instructed the board. The pawn to his far left moved up two spaces. "Now you won't want to move that guy up two, because my next move I could get rid of him. Move this one," Ron said, pointing to a pawn. "You don't have to tell it what to do, you can move it with your hand," he added as Hermione examined the numbers and letters on the sides of the board.

Hermione picked up the pawn Ron had told her to move and moved it up two spaces.

Two hours and one and a half games later, the few pieces left on the board were all spread out, just as the few people left in the Common Room were.

"You're getting really good, Hermione," Ron said. Hermione smiled.

"Thanks," she said. "What time is it?"

Ron checked his watch. "It's er -- eleven thirty."

"We'd better get to bed."

"Oh, come on, at least finish this game with me!"

"Ron --"

"Fine, if you don't finish it, I win," Ron said in fake warning. They'd agreed that the person who lost two out of three had to buy lunch at the next Hogsmede visit. Ron won the first game, and so far, Hermione was winning.

Hermione sighed. "Fine. But then we go to bed."

"Right," Ron agreed. "Your move."

Hermione moved her knight. "Check," she said.

"Bloody hell -- I didn't even see that one!" Ron moved his King out of the way.

Hermione moved her Queen and took the last pawn on the board.

"All right, if you want to play it that way --" Ron moved his Queen to take Hermione's. "Ha ha, take that Miss Granger!"

"I don't have to, Ronald." Hermione picked up her knight and placed it near Ron's King. It wasn't a Check, but it was close.

Ron moved his King to a safe distance. Now he was getting tired and wanted to end the game as soon as possible, so he'd let Hermione take his King if he had to. But he would not forfeit.

Hermione moved her castle... Her next move allowed a bishop to take Ron's King if he didn't move it. Since Ron was so tired, he didn't hear Hermione's warning "Check." He didn't move his King out of the way, but rather moved it closer to the bishop.

"Check mate," Hermione said.

"Ack!"

"Next loser buys lunch," Hermione said.

"Yeah, yeah..." Ron got up to go to bed, grabbing his chessboard. "See you tomorrow."

"Night." Hermione ran up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

* * * * *

Harry lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He wondered what time it was. And he wondered if he was allowed to eat. He was starving. His stomach rumbled. He rolled over in bed, staring at the floor.

He wished he could get to sleep. But he was somehow not tired. It must be past midnight by now. Why wasn't there a clock in the Hospital Wing?

* * * * *

Hermione sighed. She really, really liked Ron. Somehow, the tension that came between them all too often brought them closer. With her last waking thought, she pictured the two of them spending the day in Hogsmede together, roaming the streets and talking.

* * * * *

Ron wondered why he'd never noticed Hermione in this way before. She was so beautiful. Maybe it was because Harry had always been around them. That must be it. With Harry not there, Ron and Hermione had time alone together. That was definitely it.

* * * * *

A few days later, Harry was finally able to leave the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey warned him not to stress himself too much, but he knew that was impossible with all the work he'd missed. Noticing the time, Harry figured he'd find Ron and Hermione at lunch.

Sure enough, when he got to the Great Hall, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting across from each other and talking. He remembered them kissing in the Hospital Wing and wondered whether they were dating. Either way, he hoped they wouldn't act all weird around him.

"Harry! You're alive!" Seamus called, waving.

"Yeah, never would have thought it, would you?"

"What happened to you?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I don't remember," he lied. "Last thing I remember before waking up in the Hospital was falling from somewhere."

"Must've been flying too high on the old broomstick, eh?" Seamus grinned.

"Yeah, must've." The truth was, he remembered falling from a cliff. But why had he fallen? He must have lost his grip. But then... How did he get to the Hospital Wing? He didn't even think of that before.

"Hey guys." Harry sat down next to Ron.

"Harry! You're back."

"Naw, really Ron? Didn't know that."

"Welcome back, Harry," Hermione said, smiling.

"Thanks. God, I'm starving!" He piled so much food on his plate that it was falling off.

"Um Harry, it's called second helpings," Hermione said, staring at the amount of food on Harry's plate.

"Yeah, and third, and fourth," Ron added.

Harry muttered something incoherent through his food.

"What was that?"

Harry chewed for a moment, swallowed, chewed some more, and swallowed again.

"And maybe even fifths."

"Didn't Madam Pomfrey feed you?" Hermione sounded concerned.

"Yeah, but first she made me drink this potion that was so nasty it ruined my appetite. But it always came back, about half an hour later. I haven't eaten a meal with a real appetite in ages."

"Listen, Harry, Ron and I did some talking and we thought that maybe Willow would be willing to get Sirius back for us," Hermione said. Harry stared at her, chewing his food.

"But -- she already said no," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but see, since you ran away and practically got killed, Willow'd be more willing to help us."

Harry thought for a moment. "Thanks, you guys, but really, I'll be fine. I'll get used to not having him around."

"No you won't," a voice said behind him. Harry turned. It was Willow.

"Harry, it's been a year and a half since someone I knew died, and I still haven't gotten used to any of their deaths. It'll take forever to adjust to Sirius' death, especially since he was almost like family."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'll help you."

"You will?"

"Yes. I will."

"Why?"

"Harry, weren't you listening to her? She just said that you can't --"

"No, that's not what I mean, Hermione. I meant, well, you said before that you wouldn't help us, and now you're saying yes --"

Willow said nothing, but smiled, winked, and walked off towards the head table.

* * * * *

Willow sat down between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Snape looked up from his food as Willow sat down.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?" Willow said cheerfully.

"Associate with the students," Snape said simply, staring Willow straight in the eyes. His eyes were cold, and dark, almost as dark hers had been when she was evil.

Willow shrugged. "I like them," she said, reaching for the jug of coffee.

Snape looked up at her. "You like the students?"

"Well not like that," she said. Then, remembering whom she was talking to, she said, "I mean, they're cool. I don't know, I guess I feel pretty comfortable around them."

Snape shook his head, his horrible greasy hair grazing the sides of his cheeks.

"You shouldn't."

"Can I ask you something, Severus?"

"Fine," Snape snapped.

"If you hate children so much, why do you teach?"

"How -- what --" Snape looked enraged. His eyes were bulging and what little color he had in his face vanished. "Never speak to me that way again, Rosenberg," he said, and got up so quickly that he knocked his chair over. He stormed out of the Great Hall, robes billowing out behind him like flowing water.

Professor McGonagall leaned over to Willow.

"Severus has quite a temper. Don't pay any mind to him," she said.

"I noticed. Thanks," Willow said, stabbing a piece of ham with her fork and eating it, lost in thought.

* * * * *

Over the next few weeks, Hermione spent a lot of time in Willow's office at nights, practicing Wicca. It was difficult, but after a lot of practice, things became easier and she learned faster.

Sometimes, Willow would stop with lessons and tell Hermione about life in California.

"It was pretty scary sometimes, especially before I began practicing Wicca," she said one evening. "But after a while, I got used to it. Having Buffy as a best friend always made it better, because she was so strong."

"Willow, there's something I've been wondering about. Who is Spike, exactly?"

Willow walked over to her desk and pulled out a picture from a drawer.

"Spike was a vampire. At first, we all hated him... But after a while, he got a chip in his head. That one's a long story, but the chip prevented him from harming humans."

"How?"

"I don't know exactly, but if he tried to hurt a person, something would go off and he'd get a terrible headache. Eventually, though, he learned that he could kill demons, and he became quite unpopular with his own kind since he was taking up sport in killing them. And when I was evil, Spike got it into his head that getting a soul would deactivate the chip, so... He went to Africa to get his soul."

"Did it work?"

"Well, he got his soul back, yeah. But the chip still worked. Anyway, we trusted him pretty well by then, so he was sort of unofficially admitted into our group."

"And, end of story, happy ending?"

"No." Willow looked suddenly sad. She held the picture out to Hermione. She took it. "That's Spike there, with the bleached hair and the trench coat."

"What happened to him?" Hermione could tell, by the tone in Willow's voice and the look on her face, that something bad had happened.

"In order to save the world... Spike was wearing this amulet, and it... It used his soul to kill all of the ubervamps --"

"All of the what?"

"Vampires that were never sired, they were just... Created that way. Anyway, the building we were under collapsed, and it was day, and... Spike dusted." Seeing Hermione's face, Willow added, "He was... Well, I guess he was already dead... He was destroyed. It was hardest on Buffy I think."

"Why?"

"Well, I kinda feel bad talking about her personal life, but... Buffy had had a thing with Spike for a while."

Hermione was silent for a moment. Somehow, she felt bad for Buffy Summers, even though she did not know her. Hermione stared at the picture. Spike's mouth was opened oddly, and it looked like he was talking. There was a group of people around him, some with their backs to the table. The people on the same side of the table as Spike did not look happy to be there. Hermione noted this.

"Yeah, most people didn't really like Spike, even if we did sort of trust him."

"Who took the picture?"

"Someone named Andrew. He was kind of weird." Willow looked at her clock. "Well, it's getting late. You'd better go."

Hermione began walking to the door. She stopped, and turned around. "Tara -- she was really important to you, wasn't she? I mean more than other people were."

Willow looked shocked. "Some other time," she said.

Hermione nodded and turned out of the room. She closed the door behind her with a wave of her hand and smiled to herself, feeling proud of her Wicca capabilities, even if they weren't much.