Everything's Going To Be Okay

    Never forget the value of a true friend. Once they’re gone, you just can’t seem to live. It’s almost as if an emptiness just eats at your soul, like a black hole destroying a galaxy.

    It’s been a month, yet it seems more like an eternity. Nothing is the same. Hogwarts’ hallways aren’t as bright, and his empty four poster emits a shadow that seems to swallow the whole room with the feelings of grief.

    “There, there, Harry,” clucked Hermione. “We’ll all get over it. Just you see. And look around.” She pointed towards the fireplace in the common room.

    “Don’t you see? We’re all suffering.”

    Like always, Hermione was right. I saw Pain on everyone’s faces, and felt him on my own. Ginny was sitting solemnly in the biggest armchair closest to the fire. The firelight danced on her face. Still, I can’t seem to stop thinking. Thinking back to about a month ago.

    =+=

    A month ago was the peak of the Quidditch season; I couldn’t be any happier. The weather was nice and balmy, and the slightest breeze wafted the scents of spring throughout the grounds of Hogwarts. I remember only too clearly the morning of our semi-final game. If we won, we would continue on against Ravenclaw for the Cup. Excitement pumped through my body- we were going to play Hufflepuff.

    It was fifteen minutes before the game. I had the team assembled in the locker room for the captain’s pre-game speech; it was a tradition Wood started, and I hadn’t had the heart to end it.

    “This is it,” I said, looking at the faces of my team. They all wore the same expression of boredom. Typical, I thought to myself. All of them except Ron, that is. He always listened intently to my speeches, no matter how terrible they were. That’s the kind of guy he was; loyal. I continued.

    “If we win this game, which ultimately should happen, we’ve secured the Cup. First of all, Hufflepuff is a push over. If we’re lucky, we shouldn’t be playing any longer than fifteen minutes. Then we rest for a week, and we play Ravenclaw for the Cup. Now the weakest part in their system is their keeper. It should be easy.” I noticed that Ginny was twiddling her thumbs. She was our water-girl, in case anyone got thirsty. She had really wanted to be part of the team, like a substitute, but after a lengthy explanation of the rules, she settled with what she got.

    I took a deep breath and looked Ron in the eyes. “Don’t let anything past you, got it?”

    “No sweat, Harry. You stress way too much before the game. Just chill, okay?”

    “But this is the Cup we’re playing for! We can’t slip, we’ve-”

    “We’ve all worked very hard, and we will get it. Listen to me Harry. Don’t worry. If you think about it, you’ll slip. That’s why we’re not thinking. So we don’t slip.”

    I looked at Ron and smiled. “What would I do with out you, Ron?”

    “Probably kill yourself. I mean, you can fight You-Know-Who and come away with out a scratch. But when it comes to stress, well, I think thoughts of suicide enter your mind in the mornings too often.” A rush of crimson rose to my cheeks. Word of the shower incident had certainly gotten around. Madame Pomfrey had to keep me in the hospital wing for a week after my attempted drowning. However, I did receive a Get Well owl from Wood, stating how proud he was, so I really can’t complain. The whole school knows now, of course. About the shower thing, not the letter from Wood.

    Ron laughed. He still thinks that I should resign from Team Captain in order to spend some time in St. Mungo’s, but I keep telling him that if he doesn’t drop it, he’ll end up there from the lack of his lower body. This however, only makes him laugh even more.

    Madam Hooch popped her head in just then.     

    “We need everyone ready for the start of the game. If you’re not out there in five, I’ll announce a forfeit on your part.” She left, and I quickly assembled the team.

    We walked out of the locker room and headed towards the field. The roar of cheering Gryffindors really perked up the whole team. I could feel the adrenaline streaming through my body. We were finally out on the field, up in the air, waiting for the whistle. Ron was in goal, and the rest of the team was in a circle, with us seekers hovering over head.

    The whistle pierced the air, and the Quaffle was released. There was hardly any wind, and the crowd was much louder because of it. A Bludger whirred past my ear. They didn’t faze me anymore; not since my second year. Besides that, I rested assured that no one had died from a Bludger injury in a school game for nearly two centuries or so.

    We were twenty minutes into the game, leading 70 to 40. If I could only find the Snitch! We were kicking butt. There is no way I can deny that. In fact, we were playing so well, that I think I almost caught Ron dozing off. Another ten minutes passed. It had been half an hour; fifteen more minutes than I wanted. I could feel the stress building up inside me. Why hadn’t I seen that friendly little glimmer of gold yet? I was searching and searching.

    The bell went off as we scored another goal. Still leading, we were on a roll. Hufflepuff was having difficulties passing through our defensive strategies, and theirs was just way too weak for their own good. Our offense just kept flying by. Another ring of the bell announced that fact that we had upped our scored 130 - 70. But this was getting long. Too long.

    I suddenly had this awful feeling; someone was going to slip. Ron insisted that they wouldn’t, but something inside my went into panic override. I didn’t like this feeling at all.

    “Keep your guard!” I shouted to the team, but no one heard me. The roar of the crowd was too strong. Another Bludger whirred past my ear. I turned around to watch it. Horror grew within me as it picked up speed and hurtled toward Ron, who was facing the opposite direction.

    “Ron! Look out!” I vainly yelled; it was no use. I froze mid air and watched helplessly as the Bludger smashed into the center of Ron’s neck. The crowd screamed in shock. They only saw him fall off his broom.    

    “Play on!” shouted Madam Hooch with the wave of her hand. Play on?! How could I just play on?! I was livid. Ron was hurt, had just fallen about 40 feet, and my team had no Keeper. Play on?! My world was beginning to turn scarlet when a glitter of gold rushed by. I was immediately in pursuit. Naturally, Hufflepuff’s Seeker caught on to what was up and was immediately on my tail. We rounded sharp corners, constantly looping around and around, when the Snitch picked up speed. I bolted off after it; Hufflepuff didn’t stand a chance. A school broom versus my Firebolt? You do the math.

    As I closed my fingers around that cold metal ball I felt the wind knocked out of me. Helplessly, I was knocked off my broom and fell the fifteen feet to the ground. I saw the culprit, swift and black, swerve off in the opposite direction.

    “Damn Bludger,” I cursed.

    The game was over; we had won, 280 - 70. Madam Hooch blew her whistle announcing the end of the match. I got up from the ground as efficiently as I could and handed her the Snitch. Hermione rushed out onto the field, and the two of us made our way in the direction where Ron was laying.

    “What happened?” she asked. “All we heard was this loud cracking noise, and then Ron fell.”

    “Cracking noise?” I gulped. This couldn’t be good at all. We picked up the pace and were nearly in a dead sprint as we neared the spot where Ron laid.

    “Oh my God!” shrieked Hermione. The closer we got, the more you could see it. Ron was lying face down in a decent sized pool of blood. I felt my heart skip a beat. Move, twitch, do something! This couldn’t be happening! Hermione had leeched onto my side; unfortunately it was the same one that the Bludger got, too.

    “Careful, Mione. That’s where I got hit by that Bludger at the end of the game.”    

    “Oh, it got you, too?” she sobbed.

    I looked at Ron again. It tore my heart out, seeing him lying there. I turned him over so he could breathe.

    Just in case he still was, that is.

    “Hermione, run. Run and get help. Fast. Ron’s going to need it.” She fled, a mess of tears and hysterics. I knelt down next to Ron and gently lifted him up to hold in my arms. Covered in his blood, I could feel the tears burning, wanting to come out and openly announce how I felt.

    This can’t happen, I thought to myself. This just can’t happen!

    “Hang in there, Ron. Hang in there. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay. Just you see. Everything is going to be okay.” I lost myself. I lost myself mutter and reassuring Ron, when really, it was probably I who needed the reassurance.

    “Harry?” came a small voice. I looked around. It wasn’t my bloody conscience, was it? But then I looked down, and saw Ron, trying his hardest to open his eyes.

    “Ron! Are you okay? Will you-“

    ”Harry... don’t leave...me. Don’t... leave...”

    “I won’t Ron. I promise. Help is coming. Hermione is getting help.” And then, he smiled. Ron smiled and attempted to nod. I held him close; I wasn’t going to let anyone take him away, especially in his time of need.

    All I remember after that was a blur. There was the rushing of cloaks, teachers barking orders, and tears flowing as they pleased. I remember hearing Hagrid, saying, “Move ‘em back, make room” over and over to keep the masses of curious students back from where Ron and I were. Hermione came up to me and leaned against me from behind, crying over my shoulder. Her brown hair fell into my face, but I took no heed. I just sat there holding Ron. Then someone came up to me, asking to hand over Ron.

    “I can’t,” I said. “He told me not to leave. He told me not to leave...” I went off into a fit of stammering and babbling. I guess they eventually gave up on separating the two of us, because I vaguely remember floating, repeating over and over, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

    We were transported to the Hospital Wing on a floating stretcher. Madam Pomfrey insisted on closing off at least half of the wing just so Ron would get some quiet. Professor McGonagall gave Hermione and I the next four days off of school. Mind you, I had wanted until Ron was completely better, but I settled for the four days that I got. We were also allowed to stay in the Hospital Wing with Ron, instead of going back to the dormitory. House elves brought us fresh clothing and food to eat. Hermione seemed gratified, not enraged, over the efforts of the house elves. We slept in the beds on either side of Ron, and he knew it.

    The first day that we were there, Hermione and I ran about helping Madam Pomfrey. There were all sorts of potions that had to be made, and Ron needed a lot of attention. Pomfrey made all sorts of observations on Ron. It was almost as if he were some kind of experiment. I couldn’t think straight. It was the whole ordeal, weighing on my mind. I didn’t move around much the second day, as I could hardly see through my fogged up glasses; funny how tears do that.

    “Don’t worry, Harry,” said an equally upset Hermione as she came to sit next to me on the empty hospital bed. “He is improving. Madam Pomfrey seems to believe he’ll pull through.”

    I sigh. He’s hardly improving. After he got hit he spent at least five minutes lying on the ground bleeding. In fact, he had lost so much blood that he needed transfusions. Since Hermione and I were the closet ones to poke with a needle, Madam Pomfrey tested the two of us. Mione was a match; I wasn’t.

    So Hermione agreed to be a blood donor for Ron. Twelve owls and mounds of paperwork later, you can really see the effects. Hermione was looking all frail and a little pasty. But she didn’t care. “All for Ron” she would say, as a rather large needle would prick her skin. I could tell it hurt, the way she winced was always a dead giveaway. But Mione kept insisting that it was nothing.

    She’s right. There’s nothing like than being pricked by a huge arse needle. Now that’s my idea of fun.

    However, I don’t get the enjoyment of being pricked with needles or turning all frail and pasty. No, my enjoyment is sitting there day after day and watching Ron live off of a breathing tube. I just get to sit and “relax”, as Madam Pomfrey keeps telling me.

    “You’re far too stressed, Mr. Potter. Here, let me fetch you a calming potion.” Well, down goes one calming potion, followed by another and another. Day three with Ron rolls around and Hermione looks awful. Well, so do I as neither of us sleep at night. I’m constantly on calming drugs, and Hermione is intentionally bleeding herself. Of course we look like wrecks. On top of it all, we have to find a place for all of Ron’s mail. Thousands of Get Well cards, bouquets of flowers, and tons of candy that he wouldn’t be able to eat for at least two weeks were being placed on the hospital bunk across the aisle from him. The odd thing is that even Hermione and I were getting cards and what not. This place must be more magical than we give it credit for if word spreads that fast. So now I have my own little pile growing under the bed in which I sleep. None of the cards really faze me; one from Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Dobby, and even Draco, if you can believe that. I did get one from Wood. That cheered me up. “Sorry to hear about Ron. Let the team rest a while. You too; you’re working like an animal.” Hermione snatched the card from my hand.

    “Hey!” I yelled. Hermione read the card to herself.

    “You are the strangest boy I know, Harry. Are you going to listen when Wood says it? Because you certainly don’t rest when I tell you to.” Okay, so maybe she had a point, but that really hurt.

    “Maybe, maybe not,” I replied defiantly, and snatched my card back. I put it where the rest were. Of course I’m going to rest, I thought to myself. But Mione doesn’t have to know everything.

    The house elves brought us lunch, and right after, Hermione subdued herself to her daily torture, I mean hobby, I mean task. Once again I did my daily task of watching Mione wince, then kick myself because all I can do is sort mail, take calming drugs, and watch. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t donate blood to my best friend, make potions (I have a D, Pomfrey doesn’t trust me), or anything! “Just sit still and calm done, Mr. Potter” or “Calm down, Harry”. That’s what I was supposed to do.

    I spent the rest of my evening trying my hardest to concentrate on my homework. Even if there is a crisis that traumatizes the school, the teachers still lay on the homework.

    No sympathy, I thought to myself. I looked over towards Hermione. How does she do it? Damage her own health in hopes of restoring another, then sit there and do all of her homework, start to finish, with no problems, no distractions? I dub thee Wonder Woman. Then I look over at Ron. Poor guy. It must suck to have to lay there day after day, especially when your life is carried on a breathing tube. To top that off, he has to deal with tube feeding and a catheter. If he pulls through this, I thought, he is going to hate anything with tubes, I’ll guarantee it.

    Midnight rolls around and I’m scrambling to finish my homework. Just two more paragraphs, just two more. But my luck is awful, because Madam Pomfrey came barging in saying that if I’m not asleep in five minutes I was getting a sleeping draft.

    Bring it on, nurse-y, bring it on.

    On our last day with Ron I woke up late, courtesy of the sleeping draft. I need to learn how to make that one, because I haven’t slept that well in years.

    “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” said Hermione. “You’re going to miss a hot breakfast.” The house elves brought us all sorts of delightful things to eat. Pancakes, bacon, sausage, and eggs; pumpkin juice, muffins, and a wide variety of fruit. It was all very good, except for the Sleeping Beauty comment. I had every intention of saying “shut up Wonder Woman” when I realized that I would compliment her by doing so.

    After breakfast, I went and sat in the chair next to Ron’s bed. The poor guy was asleep.

    “So,” I said to him, despite the fact that he probably wasn’t listening, “today’s my last day here. I’m gonna miss you.” There was a long silence. “Oh, by the way, you’ve got a lot of mail to read when you wake up. Judging from the size of the pile it looks like the whole school sent you something.” If I hadn’t known Ron was sleeping, I would have sworn he smiled.    

    “Anyway,” I continued, “I really hope you feel better. Madam Pomfrey mentioned something about a couple of crushed vertebrae on day one, but that’s all better now, courtesy of Skele- Gro. You’re lucky, in a way... You got it down a tube. Oh, but Pomfrey said something to me and Mione. It was along the lines of paralysis. She doesn’t think you’ll walk again... something about damaged nerves. And in case you didn’t know, Mione has been giving you some of her blood. You bled up a storm, man.” I paused and shuddered. I just now realized how scared I really was. In fact, I was flat out terrified for Ron on the day of the accident. I looked down. Good ‘ol Ron, just laying there, all peaceful. It made me kind of happy, but not happy enough to cover my fears. He still could turn for the worst, Pomfrey said. I wasn’t going to tell him that though. No sir.

    “I’ll let you sleep now, I guess.” I kept looking at him, and my glasses started to fog up. Damn it, I was crying again.

    I slowly got up to leave when a hand reached out and grabbed mine.    

    “Don’t worry, Harry,” said a really small voice. “I’m Gryffindor. We’re fighters, remember?” I looked Ron in his half open eyes.

    “Yeah,” I said. “We are.”

    That evening we were back in the common room, but I was wishing to be back down with Ron again. The moment we stepped through the portrait hole, you could feel the anxiety in the air. Less than two seconds later, we were bombarded with questions. How is Ron? What happened to him? Will he be okay? Good God, Mione, what happened? Gee, Harry, by now I think you would have adapted to seeing ghosts! When will Ron be back? What was it like? Is he talking?

    I shook my head and headed up to the dormitory. Five minutes later, Hermione must’ve been equally overwhelmed as she headed up to the dormitory, too. But instead of the girls dormitory, she walked into mine.

    “What are you doing here?” I asked. I was in shock; this was not a Hermione move.

    “I felt alone, despite all those people. Oh, Harry,” she came and sat by my side, “everything is so different. And I’m so tired.”

    “Blood loss,” I clearly stated.

    “I know, but it was worth it. Ron is doing much better, I just don’t have the heart to talk about it.”

    “He won’t walk again.”

    “What?”

    “He won’t walk again,” I repeated.    

    “Where did you get your information?”

    “Madam Pomfrey,” I sighed. “She said she was surprised he made it this far.”

    “It’s only been four days!” exclaimed Hermione.

    “I realize that. Don’t you realize that is one of the factors to my stress? He barely made it through four days, Mione. What about five, or eight? Will he make a month?” Hermione slumped, then leaned against me.

    “I see what you mean,” she said quietly. “This is serious. Much more serious than I had first thought. Remember that first day Harry? Because I don’t. All I remember was crying and crying, and looking for teachers.” I held Hermione close to me.

    “It’s hard on us especially, Mione. WE were there. No one else was. No one else.” She started to cry into my shoulder.

    “I don’t want anything to happen to Ron.”    

    “Neither do I.” I gave her a hug and recommended that she go back to the girls dormitory.

    “The other guys wouldn’t understand. They’d get weird ideas if they catch you in here with me.” She laughed, a little one, but at least it was a laugh.

    “Good night Harry,” she said.

    “Night Mione.”

    The next morning at breakfast was quiet.

    “Has it always been this quiet?” I whispered to Ginny.

    “Almost. It’s quieter today because you and Herms are back. Parvati thinks its some sort of omen. Like you’re giving up, or there’s no hope. She shared that with us after you two went to bed last night,” she whispered back.

    “No, there’s hope. That’s why we left. We weren’t as worried anymore.”

    “As worried?”

    “Ginny, Mione and I were about to pass out from the lack of sleep. We could sleep the last night we were there. Now that’s an omen.”

    “True,” she said, and went back to buttering her toast.

    Classes were difficult to get through. It seemed like every other moment I would look over at Ron’s empty seat. The professors noticed, too. Homework was light; Hermione was a little disappointed.

    “A review? This is one we got in third year!”

    “Be grateful. They’re being sympathetic.” Hermione went off to a table to work on it, and had it finished in a minute flat.

    “Busy work,” she grumbled as she got up to leave. “Next time give it to us rough, or give us nothing at all.” I took no heed of what she said. It was the stress and hormones talking. Curse this time of month, I muttered.

    Several days passed since Hermione and I had left the Hospital Wing. Of course we still visited everyday; Mione still wanted to give up blood. I hate it when she does it. It only reminds me more and more of how helpless I am and how I can’t do anything for my best friend.

    “It’s okay,” said Hermione. “You were there when his hours were darkest. Now that means a lot to someone.” Sure I was there. I was there when my heart stopped beating; when I thought I had lost my best friend in the world; when I was soaked in his blood; when I started crying; when his hours were darkest and he needed me the most. Yeah, I was there.

    The next morning at breakfast I was unusually depressed.

    “Harry, are you okay?” asked Ginny.

    “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking. That and I’m tired.”

    “Oh, well, maybe you should sleep during study hall,” she suggested.

    “Nah, I’m too far behind.”

    “Whatever you say, Harry,” said Ginny as she neatly cut a square of waffle and put it in her mouth.

    Later during study hall, I could barely keep my eyes open. But I still had those two paragraphs to finish. I remembered frantically trying to finish them, but ended up being sedated by Pomfrey. I should be done, I thought. I looked around. Hermione was pleasure reading, as she was all caught up. I also noticed that we were sharing study hall with the Hufflepuffs. They hadn’t seemed too upset that we knocked them out of the running for the Quidditch Cup. In fact, they gave Ron the biggest bouquet, now that I think back. Flitwick is in charge of SH today. He’s nothing, I think. I can easily nod off and not be noticed. I cross my arms on the table and lay my head down. Sleep was overcoming me.

    Just as I was entering Dreamland, I was awoken by the rustling of feathers. Hermione and I had both received owls. Was it mail time already? The note read as follows, in a very untidy scrawl:

        Hey there strangers! Please come to the HW to see me. I want to talk to you two about

        something important.        ~Ron

    I looked across the table at Hermione, and there was fear in her eyes. Come on, I mouthed, and we quickly left study hall without a note. We rushed down to the Hospital Wing and were greeted by Madam Pomfrey.

    “He’s been waiting for you... He’s looking better.” Madam Pomfrey escorted us to Ron’s bed then left, with her usual parting message: “Make it quick.”

    Ron was sitting up, propped by a couple of pillows. He had a hint of color to his checks, and he was smiling. My heart rose out of my stomach. He looked good. Very good. I glanced at Hermione, she was beaming. I let a smile crawl out of hiding as well.

    “Wow,” he said. “You guys are fast.” He laughed a little, but had a coughing fit afterwards.

    “Ron, you look great,” said a still beaming Hermione, after the coughing fit subdued.

    “I feel great too. Let me tell you something, there are some pretty wicked pain killer potions out there.” He smiled, and I chuckled inside of my self. Good ‘ol Ron. A question gripped me that I just had to ask.

    “Why did you call for us anyway, Ron? You made it seem like you dying or something.” Ron let out a hearty laugh.

    “Is that what you thought? Oh gee, Harry, you are a stress case. Pomfrey told me about how you set the record on most ingested calming potions.” He laughed again. “Besides, I’m a Gryffindor! I told you that. I’m not going to leave here, not anytime soon. Anyway, the real reason I wanted you is to tell you something.” He reached over to his night stand and grabbed his glass of water. He drank deep from it, then set it back down.

    “It has been sitting on my chest ever since you two left for Gryffindor tower again. So, I couldn’t wait any longer. I just had to tell you now. You know how impatient I am.” We all smiled. “So, I will address to each of you what I have been thinking of for the past four days.

    “First of all, I owe my condition to you Mione. I’m eternally grateful. You have done something for me that I’ll never forget. When they first brought me in here, the room wouldn’t stop spinning. Three transfusions later, I was lying in bed, not careening around the room. Pomfrey also told be about how you helped make every potion, then sat down and did all your homework. Brilliant! I really appreciate you, Mione. You are one of the truest friends anyone can be blessed with.” Hermione blushed scarlet. Ron reached out and grabbed her hand, pulled her near, and kissed her on the check. For a moment, I thought I would have to call in Madam Pomfrey to help clean up a puddle of melted Hermione, but luckily she stayed in solid form.

    But it just so happened that Ron had brought up everything I had been kicking myself for. I hadn’t done anything. What had Ron wanted to say to me? “Thanks for warming the chairs, Harry ‘ol pal”? I got sick thinking about it.

    “Harry?” I looked up.

    “Harry, Harry, Harry. My far too stressed out pal.” Thanks Ron. “I saved you for last, because you did the most important things of all.” I went to interrupt him, but was shushed.    

    “Sh! Don’t speak. Pomfrey told me plenty. First of all, you have a D in potions. I’m disappointed in you, Harry. I expected better from you.” He smiled. He knew what he sounded like. A mother, scolding her kid over a bad report card.

    “So, because of your grade, Pomfrey forbade you to step anywhere near a cauldron. She did tell me how disappointed you were when you couldn’t give blood, or make potions, or do anything. She said you were a mess, Harry. But thanks for sorting my mail, though.” He shot me a quick look. “But you did something more for me than Hermione, even though you don’t know it.

    “I heard you during the game, Harry, yelling at Hooch to stop. You kept saying ’Ron’s hurt! Ron’s hurt!’ but the game still went on. Then I heard you get hit by that bloody Bludger. It wasn’t as quiet as you think, Harry. I think it got some of your ribs pretty good. But then you got up, you had to’ve, or else how would have you gotten all the way over to where I was? I remember you turning me over; I couldn’t, I tried. Then I heard you tell Hermione to get help. You lifted me up, despite the fact I was covered in blood and sand from the pitch. I felt safe again, Harry. I felt safe in your arms. And you didn’t let go when the teachers told you to. You never left my side. My world was continuously going dark, Harry, but you kept telling me ‘everything’s going to be okay’.” Ron looked at me, and I lost it. Someone had just turned the valve on my tears when he looked at me.

    “Harry, you have done so much for me. And then that last day, when you told me all those things, well, you pushed away the shadows, Harry. You helped me, and believed in me, despite your greatest fears. Don’t tell me you don’t have any, cause I know you are the most stress prone guy I have every met.” He smiled. God, Ron, just go and make me cry, will you?! I got up from my chair and gave Ron a hug. True, this isn’t very manly, but he deserved it.

    “So, what are you going to do later, Ron?” asked Hermione.

    “Well, Pomfrey said my Quidditch days were over. Sorry Harry. But I really don’t know. Finish school, like the good little boy I am.” Madam Pomfrey came in that moment.

    “That’s it. Time’s up. You can come again later, but Mr. Weasley needs his rest.” Then she turned around with the swish of her skirt, and left.

    “Well, you guys, come and see me again, will you?”

    “Of course we will, Ron,” said a still blushing Hermione.

    “Yeah, you can count on us, can’t you?” I asked.

    Ron smiled, “Of course I can. I can always trust on you. Thanks guys, again, for all you’ve done.”

    “Don’t mention it,” I said. We waved and left and went on our way to the dormitory. The heck with class, we were going to relax, because the for the first time in about two weeks, we felt at ease. Ron was okay. I went and sat in one of the big armchairs near the fire, and Hermione went up to the girls dormitory. Slowly, I drifted into that nap I was going to take during study hall. I didn’t wake up again until hours later, by Neville shaking me.

    “Harry! Harry! Wake up, would you?”

    “Huh?” I sleepily muttered.

    “Harry, wake up! You’re going to miss dinner.” As soon as Neville mentioned dinner, I suddenly realized that all I had eaten that day was one waffle at breakfast. I got up, mussed with my hair, then went with Neville down to the Great Hall. No use trying to fix my hair, it was hopeless to begin with.

    Dinner was great. That’s all I can say about it. I was happy, Hermione was happy, and the rest of Gryffindor noticed. They were happy, too. And if Gryffindor was happy, then by golly! Things must be okay, so everybody’s going to be happy! I glanced up at the staff table. Even the teachers were smiling again. Madam Pomfrey looked happy as a clown. I shuddered. I hated those stupid things. Muggles get a kick out of them, though.

    Things were looking up. They really were. Later that night, in the Gryffindor tower, we held a party, in honor of Ron. It was a blast! Someone started playing music, and Ginny swayed the house elves to bring up food. The fire was cackling, when I suddenly got a chill. It spooked me out. I stoked up the fire so it wouldn’t happen again. Before I fell asleep that night, I promised I would go and tell Ron all about it right after breakfast. He’d be very happy to find out we had a party for him.

    That night I didn’t wake up once. I didn’t toss. I didn’t turn. I didn’t have a sleeping draft. I slept soundly because I knew deep down inside Ron was feeling better.

    The next morning at breakfast was spooky. The whole school was actually talking again. There was no more whispers, but hearty guffaws could be heard. People were chatting, dishes were clanging; it was music to my ears. Why had this noise been hiding so long?

    An owl swooped in and dropped a letter in my oatmeal. I carefully lifted it up and read it. Suddenly my appetite was gone. I must have gone white in the face, because Hermione snatched the note from me.

    “What is it? Wood saying he can’t write you for a month?” She then read the note and also went pale. That letter flew up and down Gryffindor table in less than five minutes, all the while new readers getting silent and pale. Hermione excused herself.

    “I need to use the lavatory.” I knew where she was going. Yes, the lavatory, but not to use it. Her eyes were shiny with tears. I felt mine burning, too. Someone from Ravenclaw became suspicious and stole the letter. Once again it was passed up and down the table in less than five minutes. It had the same effect.

    The letter went around all the tables within twenty minutes of my receiving it. I looked up at the staff table; no Pomfrey. Well, it wasn’t fraud. The letter was true.

    Ron really had died in the night.

    When Hermione returned you could tell she had been crying. Her face was red and blotchy. She noticed, just like I had, that the Great Hall was now silent. The music was gone.     

    “Let’s go,” I said and I offered my hand. She grabbed it, and we went off to the Hospital Wing. There we were greeted by Madam Pomfrey. She had just sent someone to go and fetch the headmaster. So now Dumbledore was on his way, too. Madam Pomfrey led us to Ron’s bed, and let us be alone.

    I looked at him. He was smiling. He was content. That’s why he called us, I figured. Now he was satisfied. Tears were burning on the edge of my eyes again. Why did this have to happen? Why did the Bludger hit? Why did he fall? Why was so much blood shed? Why did Mione and I have to suffer that way? We only have to suffer now! Hermione had now latched onto me, and started crying into my shoulder. I held her close, stroked her hair, and cried with her. He was gone.

    Professor Dumbledore came in. He placed a frail hand on my shoulder.

    “There, there, Harry. Hermione. He is happy now. There is no more pain for him.”

    “But how, Professor?” sputtered Hermione. “He looked so healthy yesterday! He had color, he was laughing!”

    “Miss Granger, it’s hard to say this, but he was slowly dying the entire time you were talking with him.”

    “What do you mean?” I asked.

    “The Bludger caused internal complications. Madam Pomfrey has concluded internal bleeding. You were stressed enough as it was, Mr. Potter. She didn’t want to stress you even more.” I looked over at Ron. He looked so peaceful, so happy. I didn’t feel bad for him, I felt bad for myself. Now I’m going to suffer, I thought.

    “But there is no need for you two young ones to suffer.” Can this guy read minds?

    He continued. “You don’t need to feel sorry for Ron, or each other. Just keep within your heart that you were the best friends anyone could ask for.”

    “He told us that,” whimpered Hermione.

    “And he meant it,” responded Dumbledore. “Now take your time, no need to worry about class. Professor McGonagall is making an announcement as we speak. Class for the day is cancelled. Also, we are having the Weasley family come in, so it be best if you tidied up.” Professor Dumbledore gave us a warm look, then turned to go and speak with Madam Pomfrey. I went over to Ron, and grabbed his hand.

    “Dear, dear Ron. Even the sun has gone into mourning. We’ll miss you.” Indeed the sun had gone, because outside it was raining.

    =+=

    I looked up. Hermione had gone to talk with Bill and Charlie. Oh, how I wish the sun would come out. I looked out the window. Still raining. Just like when he died, I thought. I got up, and slowly walked up the stairs to the dormitory. When I got up there, I looked around. Empty; nobody there but me. I went up to Ron’s bed and crawled under the covers.

    I cried and cried and cried.

    But somewhere in the back of my head, I could hear Ron’s voice.

    Everything’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be just fine. You’ll see. Everything’s going to be okay.