Harry Potter and the Labyrinth of the Mind

HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 8 - Heart of Lion, Tongue of Snake

It was past midnight and the common room was empty except for Harry, who, despite some second thoughts about locking up his two best friends, had finally fallen asleep on a sofa before the fire. His sleep wasn't peaceful, though. He stirred and muttered fretfully. Then, through the troublesome, indistinct dreams, Harry heard familiar voices.

"Maybe we shouldn't wake him. Serve him right."

"I think we should. Look at him. Those can't be nice dreams he's having. Come on, then, Harry. Harry, wake up. Come on, up you get."

Harry felt a hand gently shaking his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he adjusted his glasses and focused on Hermione.

"Are you alright? You look like you were having another bad dream," she said.

"I'm fine," Harry managed groggily as he sat up.

Shaking his head, he roused himself and looked up at Ron and Hermione standing on the hearth rug. Lifting one eyebrow, Harry noticed Ron's arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"I take it you didn't wake me up to hex me."

The two started and separated to sit in chairs on opposite sides of the fireplace. Ron grinned at Harry sheepishly. Hermione looked rather annoyed, though, to Harry, it seemed to cost her a bit to maintain that facade.

"Well, we'd certainly be within our rights if we did," she began.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry grinned at her, "I had to do something. You two were absolutely impossible. I don't think you could even stand yourselves. Although," he added with a significant look at Ron, "I had no idea it would work this well."

"Well, I... er, we..." she stammered, blushing deeply, making Harry laugh.

"Right, well I'm not ashamed to say it," Ron said, a bit defiantly. "Not only did we patch up after our row, we are together, now." He cast a suddenly nervous glance at Hermione. "Aren't we?"

She moved over to his chair and perched on its arm. Resting her hand lightly on Ron's shoulder, she smiled down at him, nodding. Ron beamed at her.

"Blimey," exclaimed Harry, pulling a face, "can't you save that for when I'm not around? Really, my dreams are bad enough."

Ron blushed again and Hermione pulled a face in return. Then, she grew serious.

"Harry, about your dreams - were you having one when we woke you?"

"No, nothing definite," he answered, "but there have been some things going on and we haven't really talked much. I know it's late - "

"Nope," said Ron, shaking his head, "never mind the time. Tell us everything."

They talked for hours, going over every word of Harry's talk with Dumbledore, every word of the note he had received that day and even what Harry might expect in the next Occlumency lesson. Harry hadn't felt so relaxed in ages. He still had a mountain of troubling things looming over him, but having his two best friends to talk to about it made it much easier to bear. Even an Occlumency lesson didn't seem so daunting now. He was amazed when Hermione looked at her wristwatch and gasped.

"Oh my goodness! It's nearly four in the morning. Oh, we'll be wrecks in lessons. We'd better try to get what sleep we can before breakfast."

"Right you are, Hermione," yawned Harry, heading for the boys' staircase. He looked over his shoulder questioningly at Ron who hadn't moved.

"Erm, I'll catch you up, Harry," Ron said, glancing sidelong at Hermione.

"Oh, yeah. Right... G'night, then"

Harry scuttled up the stairs almost at a run. That had been decidedly uncomfortable. In future, he would have to be certain to head up well before Ron or Hermione so as to avoid another scene like that.

Harry was very thoughtful as he dressed for bed. When he locked Ron and Hermione into the Room of Requirement, he had nothing more in view than ending their terrible quarrel. Of course, he had known for some time that Ron thought quite a lot of Hermione, whether Ron admitted it or not. He had suspected that Hermione felt the same way about Ron. Now, Harry was facing a result he had not considered. His two best friends were a couple. He knew he should be happy for them because they were his best friends.

And I am happy, he told himself firmly. They deserve the chance to be together.

Harry was just about to climb into bed when Ron came into the dorm. He came to stand beside Harry's bed, with a serious expression.

"Harry, are you okay with this? I mean, this isn't going to be too weird or something, because Hermione and I don't want that. We are still best friends, right?"

Glad for the darkened room which partially hid his face, Harry nodded and made his voice as cheerful as possible.

"Of course, mate. I think it's brilliant. And really, who knew I was such a tactical genius?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ron chuckled softly. "For the first hour or so, it looked like locking us in was the worst bloody bloomer you ever made. Still, I owe you, Harry. I'd given up on her ever speaking to me again." He thumped Harry on the shoulder. "Well, g'night, mate."

Harry flopped back into bed and stared up at the hangings. Despite his assurances to Ron, he couldn't help a creeping sensation of discontent. It was a good thing for Ron and Hermione, but that didn't silence a selfish voice in the back of Harry's mind.

But what about me?

* * *

A few hours sleep, Harry found, improved everything. As he dressed to go down to breakfast, he couldn't help a feeling of smug satisfaction. After all, today everyone would find out about Ron and Hermione and Harry harbored a sense of pride in pulling of a pretty impressive prank.

When Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room on their way to breakfast, Harry found a whole new source of enjoyment in the new state of affairs. For Ron, despite last night's display of Gryffindor courage in announcing Hermione and him a couple was now displaying a painful level of embarrassment as Hermione took his arm to go downstairs. To be fair, Hermione didn't look exactly at ease, but her expression was resolute. Harry followed behind them, trying without much success to suppress a knowing snigger.

He was slightly more sympathetic when they reached the Great Hall and everyone saw Ron and Hermione, arm in arm. He had, himself, been the focus of all those stares often enough to know how daunting it was, just walking to the Gryffindor table. Hermione kept her chin up but she was red to the roots of her hair. Ron stared intently at his shoes. They managed only a few steps into the room before breaking physical contact. By the time they took seats at the table, even Harry was blushing and squirming. Their housemates' faces were a variety of stunned stares and maniacal grins.

"And would you be having something to tell us, Ron?" leered Seamus while Dean sniggered and Neville gaped.

"Have some porridge, Ron?" said Ginny smoothly, administering an affectionate kick to Dean's shin. "Hermione, your copy of The Prophet arrived before you came in. I saved it for you."

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Ginny. She was obviously going out of her way to make it easier for them, but Harry felt this was something quite out of character. He had expected her to tease as mercilessly as either of the twins. As if sensing his thoughts, Ginny turned to him, murmuring quietly,

"I know, Harry. It's a shame to miss such a brilliant opportunity, but... well, just look at Malfoy."

Harry frowned and turned his head to give the tables a casual-seeming glance. He could see Malfoy on the far side of the Hall, watching Ron and Hermione speculatively. Something about the faint sneer on the pale, pointed face set off alarm bells for Harry.

"Bugger," breathed Harry, clenching his fists slightly.

"Nasty piece of work, alright," Ginny agreed. "Seemed best to stop drawing his attention so much."

By the time breakfast was over and students were heading off to lessons, Ron and Hermione were noticeably more relaxed. Most of the initial interest in them had died and with very few actually gawking at them, the pair was even brave enough to head off down the staircase to the dungeons, hand in hand. They were just about to enter the Potions classroom, when a voice spoke from a shadowy niche across the corridor.

"You know, you tow positively ruined my breakfast for me," Malfoy drawled, detaching himself from the shadows. "After you showed up looking like a... oh, it is too nauseating to even say it... like a couple, I simply couldn't eat another bite. Weasel, the disgrace of your miserable family is now complete. Weasel and the Mudblood. Although, I have heard you ridiculous brother - Petey, Perky, oh I can't remember his name - I've heard he's got the measure of your wretched brood."

It took both Harry and Hermione hanging on Ron's arms to hold him off Malfoy. Ron struggled against them, growling to be let go, orange and red sparks emitting from the wand clenched tightly in his fist.

"Ron, no," begged Hermione, tugging at his arm. "Please, it isn't worth it. Ignore him." She shot an ugly look over her shoulder at Malfoy. "It's just the ferret spouting off. Come on. Let's just get in and get our seats."

With more tugging and cajoling, Hermione managed, with some additional shoves from Harry, to get Ron through the door. Once they had gone in, however, Harry turned back to Malfoy who was looking on in amusement.

"You want to watch yourself, Malfoy. You may not always have Hermione to protect you."

"Remember with whom you are dealing, Potter," said Malfoy, teeth clenched and all amusement gone. "I'm warning you. I have not forgotten what you did to my father, and I am not alone..."

"Good morning, gentlemen," said Annwyl's cool voice from the doorway of the classroom. "You do intend to join us, do you not?"

She gestured them inside, giving them a hard, appraising stare. Malfoy had resumed his habitual bored sneer and Harry fought to maintain a look of blank neutrality. This was not something he felt like explaining.

Ron seethed throughout the lesson, but Malfoy stayed away form them after his taunts in the corridor. In fact, after that initial encounter, they saw almost nothing of the blond Sytherin. Somehow, Malfoy's absence was nearly as disturbing to Harry as his ever-present sneer had been. Harry kept asking himself,

How did Malfoy know about Percy? And what in bloody hell did he mean when he said he wasn't alone? Has Voldemort got student operatives here at Hogwarts and ruddy Malfoy to lead them?

***

Time, as Harry had learned during his stint as a Triwizard Champion, has a disagreeable way of rushing past in great dollops just when one would most like it to slow down or perhaps stop altogether. Thursday evening arrived in a violent rush and Harry, to his deep disgust, found himself outside the History of Magic classroom, desperately wishing to be nearly anywhere else. Standing in the corridor was useless, he knew, and arriving late for the lesson would be asking for trouble. With a heavy sigh, Harry pushed the door open and went inside.

Snape stood at the table on the raised platform at the front of the room. As Harry had seen him do before lessons in the past, he was extracting thoughts and placing them in the pensive on the table before him. There was a significant difference this time, aside from the location. Sitting at a desk to one side was Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Harry," he said genially. "You've arrived just on time. Professor Snape was just completing preparations, were you not, Severus?"

Snape gave a curt nod.

"Excellent," smiled Dumbledore, rubbing his hands together. "Then, let us begin. Harry, your lessons will have a somewhat different pattern this year. I wish to begin by explaining the arts of Legilimency and Occlumency - a brief history, as it were. Professor Snape shall, then, begin your practical instruction with some exercises designed to strengthen your resistance. You have a question, Harry?"

"Yes, sir. Will you be here during the practical instruction?"

Dumbledore must have heard the uneasiness in Harry's voice for he shot a keen glance at Snape who was glowering at Harry, before answering.

"Yes, Harry, for this evening, anyway. I shall not always be able to join you for your lessons, however," There was another glance at Snape. "I shall, in my absences, assign someone to take my place. Now then, shall we begin?"

Harry was so relieved to have escaped being alone with Snape, he could hardly pay proper attention to the headmaster's discourse on Legilimency and Occlumency. A few points, however, did catch Harry's notice.

"Harry, perhaps you might find it easiest to think of Legilimency as peeling back the layers of an onion. The mind is a complex, multi-layered consciousness. When all layers are intact, the consciousness is sound and strong - generally able to resist dangerous intrusion from day to day existence. The skill of the accomplished Legilimens is in the ability to separate and pull away layers, thus weakening and exposing the whole to view. Do you see?

"Now, as with other forms of magic, Legilimency does have counter-magic - Occlumency. So, if Legilimency seeks to separate the layers of consciousness to expose what lies within, then the role of Occlumency is to defend the whole against attack or intrusion."

Harry was surprised at how simple the concept actually seemed to be. In past lessons with Snape, he had only thought in terms of repelling the professor's intrusion into his thoughts. Harry had never considered how Snape was gaining entrance or what the Legilimens spell was actually doing within his mind. Now, however, as he stood facing Snape, ready to begin practical instruction, he felt better armed against the coming onslaught.

Snape had been silent throughout Dumbledore's lecture. He remained off to one side, his features and body language devoid of any emotion. When Dumbledore had finished his explanation, he stepped forward.

"Very well then, Potter," he said, his voice cool and impersonal, "we shall begin with a simple exercise. I dare not hope you remember anything from our previous lessons, so I shall begin entirely anew."

Harry scowled at him, but Snape took no notice. Dumbledore did not respond either, but Harry could feel the sharp, blue gaze directed at them, all the same.

"In this exercise," Snape went on, "you are to attempt to clear your mind of any thought or emotions and I will enter your mind to see if you have succeeded. Do not resist me at this time, is that clear, Potter?"

"Yes, Professor, but just how am I supposed to clear my mind so completely?" Harry responded, trying hard to keep his irritation and dislike of Snape out of his voice.

Snape responded with an impatient noise and gesture.

"Concentrate, Potter. Apply yourself."

"Er, Professor Snape, if I may," interjected Dumbledore, "I believe I may have a suggestion." Acknowledging his younger colleague's rather irritable nod, he went on. "Harry, just to begin with, try directing all your attention on one word. Not a name, as that generally carries too many associated ideas. Choose a common word and concentrate on it."

Harry nodded and frowned in thought. After a moment, he turned to Snape.

"Alright, sir. I think I'm ready."

Their eyes met as the incantation was uttered and Harry felt, in a way he could not explain, a presence within his mind. His first instinct was to recoil but remembering he was not to resist, he turned his attention to blanking his mind to everything but his selected word - quill.

Though he was physically trembling with the mental effort of clearing his head, Harry soon saw a stream of memories flooding his thoughts - buying quills and ink with Hagrid in Diagon Alley, the eagle feather quill which was his first gift from Hermione, the acid-green quick quotes quill racing across the parchment as he sat perched on a packing carton and Rita Skeeter interviewed him in a broom cupboard...

"Well, Potter," Snape said disgustedly, "I suppose I should congratulate you on giving me access only to your thoughts regarding quills. However, I should have seen nothing aside from the word 'quill.' Let us try again."

They tried several more times and Harry even experimented with different words, but with no success.

"Now Potter, really," said Snape, thoroughly exasperated, "is this the best you can offer? I am not surprised the Dark Lord enters your mind so easily. Again, now, and do try to select a word with more interesting thoughts associated. I am finding this a bit dull."

This time, Harry was unable to restrict himself to a single word. Anger and dislike of Snape crowded his thoughts and try as he might, he could not shift them. Harry could feel Snape enter his consciousness and, immediately, there was a rush of thoughts - image after image of Snape. The professor pulled back from Harry's mind with an angry snarl.

"Potter, I assure you, I find no more pleasure in this process than you do. Were I to compose a list of desirable activities, it would not include anything related to you in any way. Since this instruction has been deemed necessary and we are both required to participate," Here, he shot a look at Dumbledore who watched calmly, saying nothing. "I expect you to grant me more respect."

With that, Snape swept from the room without another word.

"Well," said Dumbledore, unperturbed, "I think this is a good stopping point for this evening. Professor Snape can retrieve him memories from the pensieve at another time. This isn't a skill attained in an evening. Off you go then, Harry. I will contact you regarding your next lesson. In the meantime, practice clearing your mind."

Harry nodded and turned to go, but paused when Dumbledore spoke.

"One more thing, Harry," the headmaster said evenly, "Suppose you tell me what word you were focusing on that upset your professor so."

"Well, er... I'm afraid I wasn't able to focus on just one word." Harry paused and Dumbledore nodded solemnly for him to continue. "It was, uh... 'greasy git,' sir."

* * *

With October came the first quid ditch matches and the cheerful prospect of a Hogsmeade weekend. Gryffindor was scheduled to play against Hufflepuff in just better than a week and Harry found practices and studying for lessons gave him little time to practice clearing his mind. He did manage a few moments each evening. Of course, there was no way for him to judge his success, but he kept it up out of a sense of obligation to Dumbledore.

Harry woke early on the morning of the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match. Deciding is was too early to rouse the rest of the team, he dressed quietly and made his way downstairs and out of the castle. Walking over the pitch well before the match would give him an opportunity to go over the game strategy on more time.

Once he was satisfied that he had covered every part of the game he could face in advance, Harry returned to the castle for breakfast. The whole team sat together, trying to encourage on another to eat while hardly touching anything themselves. Harry sat down across from Ron and Hermione. Ron stared vacantly at his bacon and hardly seemed to notice Harry's arrival. Hermione hurriedly stuffed a copy of The Daily Prophet into a pocket and greeted Harry with an almost guilty smile.

"Don't fret, Hermione," he said laughing. "Ron's a nervous wreck, but that needn't keep you from reading the paper."

"Oh, well," stammered Hermione, "no, you see, uh, well, I just finished anyway."

Harry looked questioningly at her over his orange juice, but she looked away and struck up a conversation with Neville who sat close by.

Soon enough, it was time to call the team together to leave for the changing rooms at the pitch. Shouldering his Firebolt, Harry led the Gryffindor players out of the Hall, the Hufflepuff team right behind.

Playing quid ditch again after so long was a sensation Harry was sure he would never forget. As he zoomed from one end of the stadium to the other, waiting for the game to begin, he was so keyed up about being there he could hardly enjoy it enough. Every detail of the sky, the pitch, the forest just beyond and the crowded seats seemed more noticeable, more clear than ever. He was glad for that too, a moment later, when he spotted Hermione sitting on a front row seat, Malfoy approaching from behind.

Before he could catch Ron's attention or even call out to Hermione, Madame Hooch's whistle sounded, forcing him to land and shake hands with the Hufflepuff captain. As soon as play began and he was free to move about again, Harry flew near the stands where he had seen Hermione, his attention now focused entirely on what Malfoy was doing. She still sat, a little apart from some other students, waving madly as she saw him approach. Just at that moment, Malfoy slipped up from a seat behind and settled next to her. Harry saw her eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in suspicion. Malfoy leaned toward her as if in conversation, but Harry didn't see Hermione's response. The whoosh of a speeding bludger warned Harry to dive out of its path, but he quickly headed back up toward Hermione and Malfoy.

Of course, Harry couldn't hear them, but he could see that Malfoy had upset her. Hermione was bright red, fists balled in her lap and her jaw set. Harry had only a fleeting thought that he was glad Ron wasn't seeing this, when he heard a shout behind him.

"Oi! Malfoy! Sod off, you bloody -"

"Ron! Get back to your position!" Harry yelled fiercely. "Leave it to me!"

Harry streaked forward, leaving a fuming Ron behind. Not for nothing was the Firebolt considered a world class racing broom. Harry shot toward the blond Slytherin like an arrow. He noted, with grim satisfaction, the look of terror on the pale features as Harry pulled his broom up sharply, just short of striking Draco.

"Get away from her Malfoy," Harry snarled dangerously.

"Bugger off, Potty, before I send you and that overpowered broom nose-first into the pitch," Malfoy answered, his wand clenched in his hand.

With a grunt of anger, Harry whipped his broom around in a vicious swipe. Its tail caught Malfoy on the side of the head, lifting him and tossing him anyhow among the seats. Harry was about to follow up with a remark, when a flash caught his eye. The snitch was fluttering about three meters below him to his left. Hardly taking time to breathe, Harry streaked down after it. Seconds later, he was sailing around the pitch, the tiny snitch beating against his clenched and upraised fist.

For the first time since the match began, Harry was again aware of the crowd in the stands. Now, he realized it was Seamus Finnigan replacing the graduated Lee Jordan in the box beside Professor McGonagall, announcing the scores. He could hear him yelling over the cheers of the crowd.

"And Potter has the snitch! It is 170 - 80, Gryffindor! Despite the Gryffindor keeper leaving the goals and the disturbance in the stands, Potter pulls off an impressive bit of flying and wins the game!"

Harry came down to the pitch among his celebrating teammates. Looking around, he saw Hermione running toward him, grinning widely, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. Harry started to grin in response when he realized she was running right past him. Ron stood not far behind him, his arms outstretched to receive Hermione's enthusiastic hug.

Harry looked away, somewhat at a loss. Ginny was smiling and waving and he nearly started over to her when he realized she, like Hermione, was looking past him.

Oh yeah, he thought. Dean.

Harry turned away from the cheers and congratulations and headed for the Gryffindor changing rooms, responding to the good wishes of some scattered supporters somewhat absently.

Harry didn't really have an opportunity to talk to Ron and Hermione until later that evening when people had gathered in the Gryffindor common room for an impromptu victory party. Ron and Seamus had visited Dobby in the kitchens and returned with enough drinks and puddings to sicken a small army. Ginny had hung a number of Fred and George's latest - Laughing Lanterns - around the room. These lights were designed to change colors at the sound of laughter. The effect was rather like having a party inside a very large kaleidoscope. Dean had drawn some banners for the walls. Most were Gryffindor lions in various poses including one in which the lion sat squarely atop a badger. One, however, was a rather luridly colored rendition of Harry knocking Malfoy down with his broom. Hermione was able to fill him in regarding the details of that incident.

"I didn't even see Malfoy behind me," she began, "and, really, if wouldn't have mattered if I had." She shrugged dismissively. "It is just Malfoy."

"But what did he say to upset you so much?" Harry asked.

"Well," Hermione hesitated a bit. "Maybe I'd best tell you the whole story. But Ron," she said, turning toward him with a stern expression, "you've got to promise not to go off and do something foolish. That's what Malfoy wants, to really get us in trouble. As it is, he got you to leave your position during the match today. That cost us some points. This goes for you, too, Harry. I must admit I enjoyed seeing Draco Malfoy cuffed about the head as much as anyone, but you really could have been in awful trouble."

"I know," Harry nodded, "but he... Hey, why aren't I scrubbing out the loo with Filch, anyway?"

"Well, that comes later in my story," Hermione answered. "You see, just before you dived out of the way of that bludger, Malfoy sat down next to me and started talking. He said he'd seen me arrive at King's Cross with Remus and he wondered how I felt about the Ministry creating a werewolf sanctuary. He wanted to know if Remus liked it there. Then, he said a lot more rubbish about how good it is that the werewolves would be locked away - safety for the public. He was making some rather nasty remarks about muggle-borns when Ron started our direction. That was when you showed up and you know what happened then."

"But you still haven't said how Harry got away without detention," Ron said. "Wish I'd have helped you, Harry. We could have knocked the blighter right down to the pitch."

"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully. "Well, what you didn't notice, Harry, was that everyone noticed you. Everyone had seen you weren't really watching the match. Seamus even commented on it to the crowd. When Ron left the goal posts to come our way, then it was obvious something was wrong. In fact, Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick were already there when you had words with Malfoy. They heard and saw enough to know that it wasn't you making trouble. Malfoy's got detention with Snape as soon as Madame Pomfrey heals the cut over his ear, his nose and his black eye."

Harry nodded, looking thoughtful.

"But Hermione," he said, "What else did he say to you? It isn't like you to get worked up about one of Malfoy's stories. You didn't believe that rubbish about a werewolf sanctuary, did you?"

Hermione looked quite downcast as she pulled a newspaper from her pocket and held it out to Harry.

"Oh Harry, I'm sorry. I saw it in The Prophet at breakfast but I didn't say anything. You and Ron had enough on your minds with the match. I was planning to tell you afterwards, honestly. I'm afraid what Malfoy said is true."

Gaping in amazement, Harry took the paper and, with Ron looking over his shoulder, read the cover story.

It was as upsetting as Hermione had guessed it would be. According to the report, the Ministry had responded to the recent werewolf-like attacks by creating a special compound for werewolves. The called it a sanctuary and a community, but Harry knew better. All werewolves were required to relocate to the facility by the next full moon.

"The next full moon is later this week," Ron observed. "That doesn't give them much time. Are they allowed to leave again, after the full moon?"

"Apparently not," answered Hermione, "and any werewolf who fails to comply will be considered a criminal fugitive."

So far, Harry hadn't spoken but continued to stare in numb disbelief at the paper in his hand. He looked up at Ron.

"It's just like Annwyl said. She said this would happen. Your mum wondered what would happen if Fudge overreacted and this is exactly what Annwyl said."

"Harry," Hermione said hesitantly, "do you think Remus will go?"

"Well, if he doesn't, he'll have to go into hiding and that will be even harder for him than it was for..." Harry swallowed. "It won't be easy for him to hide. He's not an animagus."

Ron sat down on the sofa beside Hermione, his arm lightly around her shoulders.

"I think you're going to have to trust Dumbledore to help him, Harry," Ron sighed. "There just isn't anything we can do."

"Yeah, trust Dumbledore. After all, he looked after Sirius," Harry's voice was bitter.

"Harry," Hermione said sharply, "you know that Dumbledore isn't to blame for Sirius' death."

"No, that was all my fault, wasn't it?" Harry snapped, coming to his feet.

Ron rose as well, facing Harry.

"That's not what she meant and you know it. The only blame belongs to...Voldemort."

Both Harry and Hermione looked at Ron in surprise. It was the first time Ron had ever referred to the Dark Lord by name, though, clearly, the word hadn't come out easily.

"Yeah," Harry answered slowly, "yeah, I know. It's just..." he sighed heavily. "I think I'll go up to bed."

Harry made his way up the stairs, his feet and his thoughts feeling leaden. A part of him hoped Ron would follow, insisting that Harry talk it all out, making sure Harry wasn't alone. Just as the staircase began to turn out of sight of the common room, Harry turned, almost expecting to see Ron not far behind. Instead, he saw Ron and Hermione settled back in the sofa, watching the fire in companionable silence. Harry trudged up the remaining steps to bed.