Harry Potter and His New Standards

* Chapter 21 - Ron's Promise, Harry's Friday Plans, & Filch's Treasure *

In love, unlike most other passions, the recollection of what you have had and lost is always better than what you can hope for in the future.

*()%()*

Well, fighting wasn't exactly the correct way to describe what he and Holly had done. It was still quite clear in his memory, though. When he had told her...

It had been in the evening, and he found her exiting the library with a glossy book that she held on her forearm, gripping the binding with her ringed fingers. She took immediate notice of him, as the moment she had stepped out of the doorway, she looked both ways as though about to cross the street. A careful smile crossed her face the moment she saw Ron, and she paused before taking a few steps toward him.

"I need to talk to you," he stated. "I want to talk to you" had been what he said to Hermione before clumsily asking her to be his girlfriend. Why he hadn't just let their relationship develop into something official like normal people? Only he knew. And after further examination of his reasons, he realized that allowing something bigger and authentic grow between them would have been the best way to go about it.

Holly squinted in a slow-motion flinch after he said this, as though mentally registering his tone as an omen of bad news. "'Kay..." she said. Ron jerked his head, motioning to the nearby classroom that was surely empty, and she followed him as he walked in that direction.

The classroom was lit with a dim, bluish light, from the stars and moon outside the windows. Ron made no attempt to light the torches, because illuminants weren't needed on such an occasion, and had allowed the semi-darkness to live on. After he had made sure they were alone, he turned to Holly and reluctantly locked her eyes. "I need to tell you something," he said, still talking in the 'I need to' fashion. Holly nodded, urging him to go on. "I..." he began, "I can't do this."

"You can't do what?" she asked, in an altered echo.

"I can't be with you," replied Ron warily, expecting her to flinch dangerously. But she hadn't - - Holly had just looked up at him, her face blank but her eyes full of varied emotions, trying to hide themselves.

"Hermione, right?" she replied, as though this were a simple matter that they discussed every time they spoke with each other. He nodded, not wanting to give her a full explanation. "Okay."

"What do you mean - - 'okay'?" he asked in a tone of discredit. After he had mentally braced himself for the blow of yells, slaps, or hysteric tears - - mysterious indifference was ten times as frightful and agonizing.

"Take it for whatever 'okay' means to you, Ron," Holly had commissioned. He stared blankly at her, and she looked back, her face refusing to let Ron know any feeling she had possessed right then.

"Can't I... can't I - - give you anything?" he had stammered. Half-hoping for a suspicious raised eyebrow in return, or some sort of movement on Holly's face other than blinking and the moving of her lips when she spoke, he was sorely disappointed.

"You aren't in my debt, that is much retrograded. I don't need anything of yours," she said, with the curt propriety of hidden cloven hoof that you would hear from someone with a phony cover, like Lucius Malfoy. At the time, he had had no clue at what 'retrograded' meant, and, in fact, had later looked up the word in a dictionary to see what she meant by this statement - - trying to fit together the pieces.

She had turned away here, as though it had been a good place to end the conversation, like a chapter of a book, and started to walk away.

"I don't feel good about this, Holly," he had returned truthfully, "I just wish I could promise you something..."

She turned back to him, and it was this image that was what Ron saw each time he was forced to picture Holly Black. Like how, right now, when the thought of Harry popped into mind, he could see his profile looking over to his left, as he had seen him looking at something in Trelawney's classroom earlier that day. Hermione? Currently the mental picture of her that would formulate in Ron's mind was how she looked when he first noticed her in the entrance hall a while before.

Normally these pictures would change with each passing day, but Holly's stayed the same. Features only visible through a faint cyanic light, her long, black shadow behind her. Cheekbones in sharp relief as they were when she - - did whatever she did - - on occasion, and eyes that were menacingly wise and defiant slowly filling with tears. It wasn't a pretty portrait, by emotion, but it was always with him, no matter how much he wished it would be of her laughing, or smiling, or even thoughtfully writing something down for all that mattered, but he couldn't shake the image.

"Promises have never done me any good. Don't promise me a thing if one day it'll saw me in half," she said, talking slowly, carefully drawing out her words, as she had been since "Take it for whatever 'okay' means to you, Ron".

Here, she had turned again and walked away, leaving Ron feeling empty as though he had just thrown something precious to him against the wall in rage, and at the current realization, felt remorse. He watched her draw closer to the door and then spoke once more.

"I keep my promises. Tell me one thing you want of me, and I'll do all I can to comply," he said in desperation. Holly turned, already in the doorway. There was a long moment as they looked at each other before she replied.

"Alright, Ron," she had said, her voice quavering only once, and that was when she said these first two words. "Promise me that I won't be your rebound, and promise me that I won't be a second for you to crawl to if something goes wrong just so you aren't - - alone."

"What if," he then prompted, "one day I changed my mind?"

"May there be an explanation at the ready."

The disclosures of promises were the only words that stood out so clearly in his mind he knew they weren't reformed and estimated statements in his memory. He had run that over in his mind over and over that night, and still did when he wondered why she moved past over half the opportunities to speak to him.

Could she not have just asked for a dance? A kiss? Anything that he could willingly give, something that he didn't need to tie all his thought and control into pulling through... a promise that wasn't one thousand promises reeled into one? No, she had to request something that couldn't be willed... she needed to ask of something he could only partially control.

"No," he stated, his eyes locking back into Hermione's in the present, "we didn't fight."

*()%()*

Harry had been sitting alone at his table when Advanced Astronomy begun. Holly came in a while after him, and plopped down next to Mandy. He absently listened to their conversation as he waited for Cho to come.

"Mandy B.!" Holly said brightly as she took her bag off of her shoulder. Mandy laughed.

"Holly B.! Alright?" she questioned, smiling toothily at her Gryffindor compeer.

Holly tucked her hair behind her ear and grinned pearly whites back at Mandy. "Um, yes. I'm all - - right." Harry smirked at how she was still not former with properly responding to this inquiry. "How about you?"

Harry was going to listen to this conversation longer, but feeling a soft vibration under his arms that were resting on the desk, he looked over to see Cho, who had just set down her books. "Hey, Harry," she said, sliding gracefully into her chair and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

What is it with girls and their hair? Harry wondered, Tossing, tucking, twisting... couldn't they just leave it alone? "Hey, Cho," he responded, nodding at her. "Alright?" he experimented.

"Alright." Now here's a girl who knew her stuff. She turned away from him and looked up towards the front of the room. "Professor Sinistra!"

The witch, dressed in robes today that had a pattern of what nearly looked like minute dragon scales, turned to Cho. "Yes, Miss Chang?" she said, turning to her and smiling kindly. Young Professor Sinistra always seemed to be in a good mood, smirking happily at someone. She was, simply, one of those genuinely good-hearted people.

"What are we studying today?"

"Astronomy," returned Sinistra.

"A little more specific?"

"Colorful - - astronomy," she said, still smiling, before turning to help Neville who was struggling to pull his wand out of his book bag. It was probably snagged on a loose thread. Trust Neville to get round, polished wood stuck on something.

"What does she mean by that?" Harry asked Cho, after the professor was kneeling at Neville and Terry's desk.

"Auroras," she answered simply, as though this was quite easy to her to deduce from "colorful astronomy".

Harry, pretending that this all fit together to make perfect sense to him before he had even asked for her - - confirmation - - said, "Ah," and nodded to himself. Cho smirked and the bell rang.

They weren't exactly on best friend basis, talking only on the topic of school. That's how you were with people you weren't very close with - - when topics were scarce, ask about school. It looked as though Cho and Harry would be doing that for a while, because of year and house differences (lack of time together - - so little that they both knew of), and short history.

But when he looked at her, he was positive she was one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. From the dark eyes to black hair, her every feature fit her perfectly.

Professor Sinistra, standing in front of her desk in the front of the room, cleared her throat. "Could anyone tell me what the aurora borealis is more commonly known as?" Several of the Ravenclaw's hands shot into the air, including Cho's, followed slowly by Holly's.

"Miss Black," she said, choosing the minority.

Holly laid her hand back down on the desk and answered, "The Northern Lights."

"And the aurora australis?" Cho was called on for this one.

"The Southern Lights." Sinistra nodded politely.

"Very good. Five points to both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Now, who could tell me where the aurora phenomenon most frequently occurs?" Terry Boot had this one.

"Above sixty degrees North or South latitude," he said. Harry wondered exactly how little he had heard the term 'latitude' in his life.

"Correct. Ten points." This class period looked as though it would be a war over house points this Tuesday. Harry had no idea as to why people knew so much about subjects they hadn't even covered, but that was Ravenclaws for you. "The aurora can occur only above altitudes of what height?" Holly raised her hand.

"One hundred-thirty miles, rounded up or... ehh..." she started rapidly tracing what Harry figured was a math problem on her desk with her finger. "Eighty kilometres," she finished after a moment.

"Excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor," said Sinistra. As to where Holly derived her knowledge, Harry would ask later. "Occasionally the event happens over an altitude of five hundred kilometres, but an average is from one hundred-ten to two hundred. Please turn to page - - two hundred twenty-six, I believe it is, in your text. Neville, would you be so kind as to read the column under "What Causes the Aurora"?"

"Yes, Professor," agreed Neville through the rustling of pages and slamming of books hitting the desks.

*()%()*

Ron had been sitting in Warlock Literature for what seemed like three hours. He had his forehead rested on his hands, and read and reread a question on their 'last five chapter of the novel' quiz. Yet, no matter how much he read it, the words didn't fit together. Nor did he remember what the last word he read was when he moved on to read the rest. His mind was elsewhere.

He tried to read it again. "7. Who" The next word he remembered reading was "O'Hara?". Again. "7. Who - - O'Hara?" This was hopeless. He tried reading it over very quickly, to see if it would click. All it did was run the words together strangely. "7. Whocosprsthladicar,O'Hara?"

Ugh.

After a more involved effort, he comprehended "7. Who constantly pursues the leading character, Tad O'Hara?". Absently he wrote down the answer, "Gutknecht and his band of dragons, led by the chief Vipertooth."

By the time he had finished the quiz and handed it in, everyone else in the room was talking quietly. Professor Vaslav stood in front of the class, his hands clasped together in that nineteenth century theatre manner, and beamed around at them all.

"For a break from our novel," he began, "I have decided that for the next three class sessions we will be studying a short story written by a Muggle." He drew out this last word so cautiously and excitedly that Ron had a feeling this man would get along harmoniously with his father. "Miss Darrels," Vaslav said, "could you possibly tell me what story was written by Frank R. Stockton and published in 1882?"

Almeda, brilliant as she was, considered this for a moment. "'The Lady or the Tiger?'" she answered.

"Correct," said Vaslav, "Now I'll be passing out the books in a moment, and I ask that you do not prod the illustrations with your wands in hopes that they will move - - these are Muggle pictures, and are constantly stationary..."

Books, in Ron's opinion, were rarely good reads. Especially in this class, considering that Vaslav had bad taste - - or something like that. Or maybe, just maybe, Ron didn't possess the wondrous quality that allows him to perceive literature as it should be - - in great quality.

Who knew? But "The Lady or the Tiger" didn't look any more gripping than The Vipertooth Saga, as titles containing the names of vicious creatures never ended up as enthralling as they first sounded.

"The ending of this book was very controversial, and a topic often discussed at the time it was published. When you are finished with the story, I will ask you to answer the 'Recalling' and 'Interpreting' questions under the heading 'Thinking About The Selection'. And then, for your final assignment on that text, write an ending for the story." Vaslav smiled cheerfully around at the students. "As soon as you receive your book, you may begin."

I hate this class, thought Ron as flamboyantly as he could.

*()%()*

Harry marked the sentence he was on with his index finger, and reread the next question. "4. How does altitude affect auroral color?"

"The strong, green light initiates at altitudes of 120 to 180 km. Red northern lights happen at even higher elevations, while blue and violet occur mostly below 120 km. When the sun is "stormy", red colors come about at a height of 90 to 100 km."

Using the synonyms he knew for terms in there made it count as an answer in his own words, right? Shortening 'kilometre' to 'km' gave him points there too... he pretended.

Harry glanced over at Cho, who was at least two questions behind him (drawing out her answers to perfection), writing in her elegant, perfect way, with the additional decorative loops and curves on each letter. She didn't seem to take notice that nearly everyone else in the room was talking quietly with their desk partners... and Harry absently wondered why she wasn't Head Girl: for how attatched she was to her work. Ravenclaw Prefect and her House's Seeker (and team captain) must have been title enough for her.

He supposed this way his Astronomy work would always be completed on time... procrastinating, although he was notorious for doing it, never paid off.

Cho looked up at him, and a moment after they locked eyes, she smiled. "Copying?" she asked. Harry shook his head fervently, and found that he couldn't look away from her eyes.

"Um, no, just... sort of dazed... er... yeah." He looked away know, and back down to his book. He could feel Cho's kind smirk on him, see it in the corner of his eye, but forced himself to read the book. Why he was so intent on not falling in love with her smile (again), he didn't know for sure. Protective instincts.

"5. Why, in earlier times, did witches and wizards cast red auroral light into the sky at a great extended distances?"

"So that Muggles would mistake it as a large fire reflected in the sky and flee. Manual red auroras were sent up during large, important, and eye-catching wizarding events such as the annual Magus Fair and the Quidditch World Cups. These were additional safeguards along with the standard anti-Muggle precaution charms."

By the time class was nearly over, Harry and Cho had only exchanged a few assignment-related statements. After he had finished his work (Cho's answers were much longer, opinionated, and more explanatory than Harry's: short, forward, and right out of the book), Harry looked around at the other students. Every other Gryffindor seemed to be holding decent conversations with their Ravenclaw coequal, except for Terry and Neville, who didn't seem to get along too well. This was either because of Terry's intellectual superiority, or Neville's lack of personal color. Poor guy.

Easy-going Professor Sinistra probably would have let Harry get up and join another table for the last ten minutes of class, but his choices were thin anyway. He didn't know most of his current classmates as well as he should, and joining a conversation that was undoubtedly all gossiping and discussing of boys (probably being held between Holly and Mandy) was something Harry would not do.

But, to his delight, Cho finished her assignment, packed her book, parchment, ink, and quill into her bag, and turned to talk to him. "So, Harry... um-" (so he wasn't the only one who had trouble finding conversation topics) "-excited for Quidditch season to start again?" Yes, apparently no matter how bright a person you were - if you didn't know what to talk about, you didn't know what to talk about.

Harry responded, "That's not for a while, but - - I suppose. How about you?"

"I guess I am. But, I always welcome the break. It doesn't mean you can't go flying, though, does it?" replied Cho with an intellectual smirk. Harry nodded.

"Right." Suddenly, an idea he would consider very good struck him. "Y'know Cho... we've never really spent time together other than this class and when doing required work for it - - and playing each other in Quidditch, I guess." Cho raised her eyebrows at Harry, as a signal for him to continue. "And, I realize it would be cold, but do you want to come flying with me sometime?"

Suddenly his 'very good idea' sounded utterly lame.

"In the evening," he added hopefully, "it's - - pretty, and would probably give us something more to talk about than Quidditch and Astronomy."

Well, now it didn't sound quite as mangled.

"You know what, Harry? That sounds like fun... we should do that!" she agreed brightly. Harry's heart leapt. "Let's set a date, shall we?"

He thought about this for a moment, gazing into his empty mental planner. "How about Friday?" She said this would work well, and they agreed to meet outside the Quidditch pitch at 7.30 that evening.

Given that Harry wouldn't forget about it, his Friday night looked eventful (don't you even dare take that the wrong way - - get your mind out of the gutter!). And now he couldn't help but get lovesick over Cho's doleful eyed, highbrow smile.

*()%()*

"Ever since Cho turned down a different corridor and you've been brutally forced to walk with me... you've been holding back a grin wider than that pink and purple striped disappearing cat off of 'Alice In Wonderland' has. What is up with you?" Holly demanded, turning her head to face Harry, brow furrowing.

"It's called the Cheshire cat, and how would you know whether or not I've been fighting back a smirk?" returned Harry.

"The sides of your mouth are twitching. Look! There they go again!" This time Harry's face broke into a resonant smile involuntarily. "Does it have to do with Cho?"

"Maybe."

"Do you have a date with her?"

"Perhaps."

"Is she your girlfriend now?"

"Deo volente," he winked at her.

"Okay, whatever the hell that means... um... um... does it have to do with not doing your work on Thursday nights in the, rather secluded, Astronomy Tower?"

"Could be."

"Considering that you are just going to continue using variants of the word 'possibly'-"

"That one was next," put in Harry.

"-shut up, as a reply to every question I ask, I give up." Holly puffed up importantly, and instead of exhaling in a resigned yet authoritative sigh she hiccuped.

Harry snorted. "Well isn't that your luck."

"Fuck - hic! - you!"

"Be nice," he said placidly. She scowled. Then he remembered he was going to ask her..."How did you know that stuff about auroras?"

"Summer schooling in the orph'. Heep-hic!" Harry laughed and Holly frowned at him again. "I pretty much only know - - hic! - - Muggle fact." There was a choking/clicking noise as Holly undoubtedly swallowed her next hiccough. "Luckily most of them know what they're talking about when it comes to science and stuff," her voice suddenly became strangled, "and half the time their causes are right. Hic! - - damn it, I thought I got rid of those! Anywho, - - hic! - -magic proves some of their - - hic! - - theories incorrect, but half the time - - hic!..."

"They're right," Harry finished for her. She nodded enthusiastically before hiccuping once more.

"Exactly. And, like I'd spend my - - hic! - - time writing down everything I learned - - hic! - - than looking it up in some wizard's book - - hic! - - just to check it with a Muggle theory. Heep!" She coughed. "Shit!" Holly coughed again. "That one hurt!"

"We'd better get you some water," Harry observed steering her sideways as she had nearly taken the vanishing staircase.

"Water never helps. Hic!" Holly wrinkled her nose in angry disgust. "AAH! Do you have a paper bag?"

"Oh, yes, wait a moment, I think I have it in my trouser pocket here... no I don't have a paper bag!" Holly made a noise. "Just make a fist and breathe into the space between your thumb and index finger," suggested Harry. She squinted slightly at him before complying, her inhaling and exhaling loudly. "No, quit it, you look stupid, I was only joking!" Holly pulled her hand a way from her mouth.

"It didn't - - hic! - - work anyway," she replied, grimacing. "Mmmphrmmmfmrrr!... Hic!"

"Just go and get yourself some water," he said a decent percept hitting him, "I need to-"

"I already told you water doesn't - - hic! - -help!" she blurted.

"Just do it, I need to stop by the library." Holly sighed and nodded, and Harry turned off the grand staircase into the corridor containing the library. After her footsteps had faded sufficiently (they had fallen behind the rest of the Gryffindors by his taking his time walking with Cho, and Holly waiting for him where she knew the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors had to split to go to separate common rooms) he followed stealthily.

When he had crept up right behind her (having to dodge behind suits of armor and tapestries on the way as she had turned a couple times, probably hearing him) he pounced on her.

Expecting her to simply scream and go a little off balance, he was wrong. Apparently, Holly hadn't at all been expecting an ambush, and after a small shriek, toppled over. Naturally she managed to save herself from injury by doing a quick twist while losing balance, and made Harry land flat on his back instead, with her right on top of him. Immediately after they had hit the ground (she had, at least, been off the stairs) Holly pushed herself up onto her feet and turned to look down at Harry, her wand already out of the loops she had sewn into her robes and pointing at his chest.

"Paranoid?" he propounded. She frowned and slipped her wand into her pocket.

"Congenital idiot?" she said in the same suggestive tone, but with a following smile showing her sarcasm. Holly held out a hand to him and he took it, and while she helped him to his feet she asked, "Whaddya do that for?"

"Frightened you, did I?"

"No!"

"Well enough to bring your hiccoughing fits to a close, I see," Harry observed, removing the new ink stain the size of his hand from the fabric of his bag and parchment then using 'Reparo' to fix the broken glass. Holly touched her throat.

"True." She flashed him a smile. "Thanks." When her fingers grazed across her collarbone as she dropped her arm, Harry saw the glimmer of the chain belonging to the hidden Cretionis Charm, and he remembered something.

"That Charm," he began before saying "Anthochaera" to the portrait of the Fat Lady to open it, "have you figured out what it does?"

"Um," Holly paused, "heals wounds." She shrugged. They stopped in between the separate doors leading to either sex's dormitory.

"Well that's convenient." She nodded. "Voldemort said you put up an unconscious fight when he put you under the Imperius Curse, right?"

"Uh... yeah..." she said, looking at him suspiciously.

"Do you suppose it was that?" He pointed to her collar.

"Maybe.... Why?" Harry sighed, wondering how to put this.

Holly couldn't possibly keep that necklace forever... and someone most certainly could remove it other than herself. If it had been the Charm that made her (rather unsuccessfully) fight against Imperius, what if, in Voldemort's plans to get to Harry, she was subjected to it again - - and failed to counteract?

"Well, our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in fourth year found it - - er - - elementary that you be able to resist Imperius under any condition." This was a lie - - as Moody/Crouch had only put he, Harry, under the curse continually until he could throw it off completely. "And you should be able to parry it too."

Holly looked blankly at him for a moment before saying, "Are you suggesting that someone put me under Imperius over and over until I stop doing what they're telling me?"

"Pretty much." There was an awkward silence while Holly regarded him with her lower eyelids brought up slightly in an odd and incredulous squint.

"And this person would be...?"

"Er - - me, I suppose." She goggled at him for a while more before cautiously agreeing to it. They decided to meet Thursday night before he had to go up to the Astronomy Tower with Cho.

*()%()*

"The Lady or the Tiger?" actually wasn't that bad of a read. Ron found it relatively interesting, truth be told, and thought that the assignment to write their own end to the story was going to be rather enjoyable.

The short story had no names given, and referred to the mostly mentioned characters as the princess, the king, the common man, the lady, and the tiger. The king, who was repeatedly described as "semibarbaric" (with "semibarbaric" ideas), had a unique way of sentencing convicts to their fate. After a person was arrested, they were brought to an amphitheatre (where usually the majority of the kingdom was gathered in the stands) that held two tall doors at the end. The criminally accused could choose either door - - choosing his own sentence (they said nothing of female convicts).

Behind one door was a radiant lady, one of the fairest they could find in their land. Immediately the man (if opening this door) would be married to her, right on the spot. It didn't matter if he already had a family that he loved, and it didn't matter if he was guilty of murder; the woman was his.

Behind the second door was the most vicious and bloodthirsty tiger that the king's men could find, hungry and prepared to pounce... and rip the human to pieces. And, the crowd would have to watch, to see what may happen to them if disobeying the rules and principles of the king. Even if you were innocent... the tiger waited.

Now, this king had a daughter, who he loved above all else. She was beautiful, naturally, and had inherited some of her father's semibarbaric ways, but not in such volume. For a long time she had carried on a secret love affair, with a handsome, common man. Of course, eventually they were caught, and the man arrested.

And here was where the dilemma came in.

The princess always knew behind which door was the lady, and behind which was the tiger. Along with this, she had the knowledge of which lady was chosen to stand behind one of the doors. This particular time, a gorgeous woman was chosen that the princess knew - - and despised. In return, the lady felt equal spite towards her. The princess wished with all her heart and soul that her lover would live a long life, but would rather die than see him marry a wretched (but pulchritudinous) woman like that.

The day came when the man was brought into the amphitheatre, and choose his fated door. He trusted the princess, and knew that she would certainly want the best for him, and also knew that she would have the fact of behind which door awaited the lady and behind which lied the tiger. He looked up at her in her throne, to receive her guidance. With her arm, she made a swift movement toward the right, that no one but her lover saw. He turned, walked firmly and rapidly across the empty space. Every heart had ceased to beat, every breath was being held, and every eye was fixed upon the man. Without the shortest pause, he went to the door on the right and opened it. The story ended with this:

"Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right.

The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to presume to set up myself as the one person able to answer it. So I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the opened door - the lady or the tiger?"

If Ron had been nearly anyone else, at the end of this story, he would have screamed (like a girl, nonetheless). He had a feeling it would end this way, and he was right.

Carefully he had considered what to write for the ending - - and he didn't want to simply end it with a lengthened version of "the tiger came out and tore him into bits" or "the lady came out, fair and beautiful, smiling brilliantly". Vaslav was a dramatizer, and for Ron to get a top grade (for a fairly simple paper), he needed a dramatic ending.

But he had not the slightest clue how to achieve that.

Maybe he'd ask Hermione.

*()%()*

Hermione dipped her quill into the bronze-colored ink she had received as a part of one of her birthday presents from Viktor. She only used the thick, gel-like ink for writing letters: it was far too nice to use up on an assignment.

"Dear Viktor," she wrote, "How have you been? The rest of the Bulgarian Nationals team treating are you well, I hope. I would love to come see you again this summer! It was so sweet of you to ask. We'll have to make more plans on the subject when it comes closer to the time..."

Hermione sighed and turned the book she was using as a smooth, hard surface further to the side so her writing wasn't quite so slanted. She dipped her quill again and thought of what to write next. Writing to Viktor wasn't coming as easily as it used to, but she still made sure to let him know what was going on where she was at least every two weeks. He always wrote back, which was so nice of him considering that he was practicing Quidditch nearly every hour of the day. He was amazing already - - she didn't see the point of practicing.

"Things at Hogwarts have been weird," Hermione continued, "You-Know-Who has been up to his usual plans to get Harry, and although it seems I write plainly of it, I don't. It's absolutely terrifying. There was a rather frightening incident in the Forbidden Forest only a couple days ago, involving my new roommate (Harry's godsister) and You-Know-Who, but we all came out of it okay. He's on the loose again, and our Minister refuses to admit it, so it won't be in the papers anytime soon. But trust me, he's gone."

The door creaked open and Holly entered. "Hi, Holly," Hermione said to her. Holly nodded to her, backing against the door to shut it.

"Hi." Holly straightened out, then walked to the foot of her four-poster and kneeled on the floor in front of her trunk. "Writing a note to Ron?" she asked, opening it and dispersing her books, parchment, and ink inside of it where it belonged.

Why would I do that outside of class? Hermione thought. Why would I do it in class? After these mental remarks, she was a bit startled at the question. What did Holly know - - if she wasn't meant to? "Oh, no, I'm writing to Viktor."

"Ah, him again? You never told me his last name..."

"Krum." Holly closed her trunk, and sat down on it.

"Krum... Krum... isn't he a Quidditch player?" Holly asked. Hermione nodded. "Oh! Oh yeah! Bulgaria, right?" She nodded again. "Came here for the Triwizard Tournament, if I remember Harry's version of events correctly..."

"That's right." Hermione finished her writing (for now) and dried the ink that was still wet with her wand. She slipped the parchment into a textbook, and set her quill and ink on top of it. Then she said, "I've been thinking of that charm you used earlier today, trying to play music..."

Holly raised an eyebrow and moved to sit on her bed, stretching her legs out and crossing them. "And?" Hermione got off of the floor and dusted off the front of her robes.

"Well, it was quite loud, but you had also said the incantation loudly." A gradual understanding dawned on Holly's face. "So I thought that perhaps if you give the incantation at a certain volume..."

"That how loud the music is will go along with that," Holly finished after Hermione gave her a meaningful look. "I test that." She pulled open the drawer on her bedside table and took out the case she held her discs in.

"Choose one that's more on the lines of easy-listening, you know, so if it doesn't work to say the incantation quieter, it won't make the entire house come in here to see what the racket is." Holly didn't look at Hermione, but paged through the case and chose another disc.

She took her wand out of her pocket, threw the disc into the air once more, and said "Emodulo." Sure enough, the beginnings of the song were much softer. "Well would ya look at that." Hermione grinned up at her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Holly pulled her wand (which she had released, and was once again, floating in midair) to the side, and caught the disc as it fell.

"I need to change. I hate these school uniforms..." She moved away and started digging through her clothes. After she'd pulled the curtains of her four-poster shut, hiding her from view (Hermione was on the other side of the bed). Next thing Hermione knew, Holly was at the door with a different set of clothes on. "If you see Ginny in a bit, tell her I'm looking for her."

She was going to tell her she would do that when Holly disappeared through the exit. After a moment of wondering whether Holly meant to be rude or if she just wanted Hermione to do what she asked, she dug out the letter she had been writing to Viktor, and continued.

*()%()*

Ron came into the dormitory a while after Harry had finished putting his things away. He was absentmindedly trying to flatten down a cowlick when his friend entered. "Hey, Harry," he said upon seeing him, "which one: the lady or the tiger?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at him - - if that wasn't an odd question he wasn't sure what was. "Um... both?"

"You know what," he responded thoughtfully, as though Harry knew perfectly well what he was talking about, "that might work."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed. Ron explained that he needed to think up an ending to a story, and couldn't go along with writing an unoriginal paper. Of course, Ron had been perfectly fine with using something that wasn't of his own ideas before, and as to why his heart was set on composing something of imagination this time, Harry had no idea.

"Well, mate," said Harry, "I'm afraid I can't help you there." Ron decided on going off to the girls' dormitory to ask for Hermione's guidance, and Harry was left alone again. After a while he impended to find Holly in the common room... but upon entering, was told by a departing Seamus and Dean that she had left a while before with Ginny. Hermione and Ron were probably still up in her dormitory, pending on what he could write for his assignment. That was destined to be an intellectual relationship, although Ron didn't seem the type to enjoy holding a long conversation on magical theories... with Hermione he may end up doing so.

So Dean and Seamus were gone, as were Holly and Ginny. Whatever Hermione and Ron were doing (for sure) Harry didn't want to join in on. There was no Neville to talk to, and Lavender and Parvati were off in the North Tower, as they were every Tuesday. Harry officially felt like a hermit. There were no available groups for him to squeeze himself into, it seemed. His one best friend was taking all of the time they would normally spend together to hold a secret symposium with his other best friend. His "sister" was bumming around with the fiery-haired girl that he still found himself gazing at when he wasn't doing anything else.

Yep... he'd just sit here on the sofa and talk to Cameron. The broad-shouldered fifth year was interesting enough, and they carried on a decent conversation. Yet, at the same time, he wasn't as close and witty as Ron, and he wasn't knowledgeable and sweet like Hermione. Nor was he scornfully spontaneous like Holly. An uncomfortable one-on-one conversation with Cho or Ginny was nearly welcomer.

When he and Haynes' conversation was interrupted by Lila Jordan (she came over and ruffled Cameron's black hair, smiling and saying something to him that Harry didn't pay attention to) Harry said that he was going to leave for a walk. Dinner was about forty-five minutes away, and he thought that a walk about the castle sounded like a nice break.

Of course it ended up being a break with all of his thoughts. First he wondered vaguely where everyone was. He had his guesses... Ron and Hermione were either still in the girls' dormitory, or they had snuck out and were off somewhere in an empty classroom or walking around outside.

Cho? Probably in her common room or the library - - somewhere doing something school-related most likely.

Dean and Seamus were probably running around the castle only Merlin knew where. Hunting out secret passageways, using Alohomora and Perambulo Zothecae on everything from portraits and statues to extra worn-looking walls.

Holly and Ginny were presumably holding a conversation about boys while walking down a corridor, looking for where the Ravenclaw dormitories might be - - or reading about a helpful spell in the library, casting wishful looks at the Restricted Section.

Neville was most likely asleep in the last classroom he was in before bell. Harry sighed and his mind turned suddenly to Voldemort and the man's new planning. He nearly wanted to have more dreams, or visions - - whatever they were, of the Dark Lord, so he knew what to be wary of. Although waking up with a burning scar and cold sweat all over his skin wasn't pleasant - - knowing where Voldemort was and what was being plotted for his ruling of the wizarding world (which, if he were in charge, would be the only world) proved helpful sometimes.

He hadn't thought of it before, but what if Voldemort had the same connection to Harry? What if when he slept, if the Dark Lord did sleep, he could see where Harry was? He could know how to find him... and he would know what Harry was doing at any given moment.

Then again, Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter were linked in more ways than the legendary scar and the giver of it. The cut on Harry's head and the iniquitous desires of a great wizard were only just past skin-deep similarities.

They were connected by a language not spoken by any announced others that were living and breathing today.

They were concordant by the brotherly wands that had chosen each of their very different hands. The tanned, course hand with the bitten-down nails that belonged to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, held one wand. At the same age, the other wand had been held by the pale, slender, and elegant hand of Tom Riddle, the most brilliant student Hogwarts ever saw, and the adolescent version of the most feared wizard of all time.

Harry and Voldemort were conjoint by the mortal blood on the fang of Slytherin's basilisk, which pierced the enchanted diary Voldemort had bewitched so many years before.

By the standing of the Sorting Hat... convinced that both belonged in Slytherin. The qualities Salazar prized were visible and strong within both of the eleven-year-olds that had sat under that hat... over fifty years apart.

Both had a bad childhood - - spent with unloving and ungrateful caretakers, in that unhappy past they were networked.

At the same age, both half-blood wizards even looked the same. The three-word nicknames given to both... one for fear of the name, one for accomplishment, could even be regarded as a similarity.

And don't forget the potion that brought Voldemort back into a capable, bodily existence, which contained Harry's blood, which now pulsed through the Dark Lord's veins as well.

Harry found himself in the trophy room, now... gazing at the plaque he had received long ago in his second year for ridding the school of he who had opened the Chamber of Secrets, and stopping the attacks. He smirked to himself for no reason he could comprehend immediately, and flicked a spare lock of dark hair out of his eyes as he looked at his reflection in the glass that encased his award.

Just as Tom Riddle had done, upon looking at his own special services award, that he knew was hardly deserved.

Funny how like your greatest enemies you could be.

*()%()*

At dinner, Harry sat next to Ron, who was placed between he and Hermione. Holly and Ginny appeared five minutes later, sliding in the seats across from the trio, laughing at something one of them had said on the way there.

A bit later, while Harry was chewing on a truffle, Dumbledore stood up, and held his hands up for a silently requested quiet. All heads turned to him, and a hush passed over the students. "Mr. Filch," he began, "has requested me to announce this to all of you tonight." Harry and Ron looked at each other, and answering one another's unspoken questions, they both shrugged. It was nice being with him... and all it took for that to be reminded to Harry was the clueless glances and shrugs they exchanged. "Our school has invested in newly-invented equipment. I am not sure of all the properties, but briefly explained: we have acquired lantern-like objects that can reveal those under an Invisibility Cloak, when fallen under its beam."

Harry could feel that his mouth had fallen open. It looked as though all of his days of slinking about unnoticed under a cloak that had belonged to his father were over.

"We have purchased these upon Mr. Filch's belief that the reason students go on without being seized and punished is because they have been sneaking about under these rare and valuable objects." Harry would have noticed that Dumbledore's eyes had fallen on him once (along with Snape's and Lupin's) and at this point the corners of the headmaster's mouth twitched in doubt, but he was still dully shocked.

"All Prefects that are on nightly patrol along with Mr. Filch himself, of course, will be given these new developments to keep a look out for rule-breakers hidden from the naked human eye. So, if any student happens to own one of these cozening cloaks, they are fair warned. That is all." Dumbledore sat down again to continue a conversation he had previously been holding with Professor McGonagall, and the majority of the other students went back to talking with their friends. Yet, the small clan of Gryffindors (and others, presumably) sat around gaping at each other.

"Well that's just great," remarked Ron, his blue eyes (which had been round as Galleons before) narrowing. "I doubt there are even five owners of Invisibility Cloaks in this school, and now our - - our weapon is..." He made a muffled noise, scowling.

"Useless?" deadpanned Harry. He glanced around to check that the others sitting around them weren't listening, and they were all chatting amongst themselves.

"Not unless you fall under the beam of these lantern things," Hermione said reassuringly, "so running around under it will be fine where there's no Prefects and no Filch. It's not that bad."

"This from a Prefect," said Holly with a snort, "We're privileged to be forewarned, even though it's s'posed to be your responsibility to make sure students don't wander around at night... okie dokie."

"Well it's a good thing too," Hermione continued, ignoring Holly's pained shut eyes, "because what if another student has been sneaking around under a Invisibility Cloak and actually harming the well-being of our school?"

Ron was still shaking his head darkly, muttering something incomprehensible after every of his friends' statements. He seemed to be taking this harder than Harry was.

"So have the Prefects been patrolling the corridors lately, then?" asked Harry, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. Hermione nodded.

"I've had to do it three times so far."

"That's odd... they haven't been watching over the castle every night since second year," he said. He chose not to act on the fact Ginny was suddenly staring avidly at her plate. "Is this Voldemort-related?" Both the Weasleys flinched simultaneously, but Harry overlooked it.

"Probably," Hermione stated with a shrug, "we haven't been informed."

"Look at it this way," said Holly, tearing her eyes away from Ginny (she'd been carefully regarding her, a comforting look on her face) and looking across the table at Harry, "you can still sneak around if you can be quiet enough and have the Map to know when you're near a Prefect or Filch. Besides that, you'll be safe in the daytime to sneak around under the Cloak, because no one is looking around for rule-breakers then! Not really anyway... but what would the point of one of these widgets be if it's in broad daylight?"

"That's true," said Harry. "Hermione... if I happened to be going to Hagrid's, per se, and you caught me under one of those... whatsits beams... would you send me back to the common room with points taken from Gryffindor?" he asked additionally, with an innocent look. Hermione smirked, but didn't answer, as an owl for her landed with the Evening Prophet clamped in its beak.