It May Be Raining

Chapter Six

An Image With A Message

"Don´t draw the Queen of Diamonds boy, she´ll beat you if she´s able..."

A look of disappointment spread quickly across Ron´s features. The next moment it turned to realization. With flushed cheeks Ron turned to Harry as if to say something, then thought better of it. Harry watched on as he congratulated Dean with a forced smile and disappeared through the portrait hole. Harry knew that Ron would take the news badly, but he wasn´t expecting this. He had a feeling that Ron suspected it was he who had voted against him, but the next instant, he shrugged it off.

Instinctively, Harry started for the portrait hole and after his best friend, but a hand on his shoulder held him gently back.

"I´ll go," Hermione whispered with a look that told Harry she suspected Ron was blaming him as well. He watched her disappear behind the portrait of the Fat Lady and slowly made his way up the stairs and to the door marked "Fifth Year Boys".

He sat there on his bed for a while, waiting for Ron to turn up. Harry wanted him to know that he´d voted for him. He thought Ron had done a brilliant job out there. He wanted Ron to know that, at least.

But, no matter how much he wanted to let Ron know that it wasn´t he who had voted against him, he couldn´t disclose his vote without exposing the others, namely Ron´s own brother, Fred.

Fred had voted for the good of the team. Dean proved that he could handle the demanding position. They both had, really. It was a tough decision, but Harry would stand by his own and Fred by his.

He spent much of the night going over these points in his mind.

Neville, Dean and Seamus had all come up and had since been fast asleep, before Harry himself drifted off. He did not hear Ron come in at all.

A gentle knock on the dormitory door woke Harry the next morning.

He reached over to the table beside his bed and put his glasses on.

Hermione´s head poked through the door just as Harry was about to say, "Come in".

The room was empty except for the two of them. Harry wondered how late in the day it was. He hadn´t gotten to sleep, he remembered, until about two in the morning.

Ron still hadn´t turned up. He noted the empty bed by the door.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, pulling himself into a sitting position.

"Ten-thirty," answered Hermione coming to stand next to his bed. "I talked to Ron last night," she added solemnly.

"And?" Harry prompted.

Hermione looked down at her shoes as she spoke. "He´s mad."

"Yes, well I could have guessed as much," Harry said a bit more crossly than he had meant to. Hermione either didn´t notice or pretended not to.

"He wouldn´t say much else." After a slight pause, she added, "Want to take a walk with me? It´s a nice day out."

Harry nodded, relieved at the suggestion. Hermione moved toward the door, turning the handle, she instructed, "I´ll meet you on the front steps in fifteen." With that she swept out of the room and shut the door.

Harry distractedly changed and pulled a sweater over his head. He turned to the mirror and ran a careless hand through his hair in a hopeless attempt to tame it. "It´ll do no good, dear." Harry shook his head and dismissed the mirror´s comments. They were never encouraging.

As he descended the marble staircase to the Great Hall, he was reminded of the last time Ron had really gotten mad at him. Ron had thought that Harry found a way past the Age Barrier and into the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. He wouldn´t believe Harry when he´d said that he had no idea who´d entered him. Ron wouldn´t speak to him for nearly a month. Harry realized with much dismay that this was becoming a tradition of sorts with the two of them. As he walked out the large front doors and into the late morning sun, he shook off the unpleasant thought and hoped that Ron would come around a lot sooner this time.

Hermione was sitting on the bottom step in front of the castle holding toast in one hand and propping her chin up on the other. She turned as she heard Harry´s footsteps and smiled.

"Are you hungry?" she asked offering him the stack of toast in her hand. He took it gratefully and they headed in the direction of the lake.

"So he´s avoiding me, then?" Harry asked, making reference to their brief conversation upstairs and throwing his last scrap of toast in the lake, watching it sink.

Hermione nodded and turned to face Harry. "Harry, it´s not your fault. You did the right thing. I don´t want to know how you voted." She held her hands up in front of her. "But however it went, I know you had the good of the team in mind." Her words were not that comforting.

Harry looked down at his feet and kicked at a twig absently. This was a great situation that he found himself in, he thought in a rather sarcastic tone. He would gladly tell Ron how he had voted, but he was bound to secrecy by the rest of the team. Moreover, the disclosure of his vote would automatically bring Fred or George under suspicion. Harry couldn´t do that to either of them.

The two walked for a while longer, coming to no clear conclusion on how Harry should approach Ron. They didn´t need to. For in that moment Harry looked up, startled. He and Hermione stopped along the trail leading from the lake when Ron came around the corner talking with angry animation to Ginny, who walked silently beside him.

Harry watched as Ron stopped in his tracks, his sister following suit. She shot Harry a brief but piteous look before her gaze settled on the ground in front of her. Harry knew that no matter how Ron told the story, Ginny would not take sides against one for the other. This was a unique characteristic that she possessed. Harry found it, well, fascinating to say the least. She could never bring herself to think ill of another person, let alone speak it. It just wasn´t her nature. Harry was quick to learn that. He had no worries that she would take sides against him.

Ron, however, stared adamantly at Harry, who returned his gaze willing himself to hold the stare no matter how much Ron´s aversion bore down on him.

Hermione finally broke the silence.

"Oh honestly, you two. Enough!"

"You just couldn´t stand it, could you?" Ron spat after a brief pause.

"Stand what?" Harry asked, perplexed, but in a voice so calm he surprised himself. He was feeling exactly the opposite, nervous, afraid that a wrong word would jeopardize his dearest friendship. Also, not wanting to betray the team´s confidence, he felt claustrophobic in the tight spot in which he now found himself.

"Stand what!" Ron repeated Harry´s words in a venomous tone. Ginny´s hand went to his arm as if to subtly keep his anger in check. "You didn´t want me on the team. Afraid I was going to take the spotlight from the star Quidditch player and all around famous Harry Potter?" he spat tugging his arm from Ginny´s warning grasp.

"Ron that´s not--," Harry was cut off in the middle of his explanation as Ron moved threateningly closer.

"You voted for Dean, Harry. You didn´t want me on the team. I´m not stupid!" Ron´s furry caused Harry to step back in surprise. Hermione moved back with him. Ginny remained fixed to her spot behind Ron. The three of them stared at him in utter disbelief as Ron launched into a theory where Harry and Dean had conspired against him. It included a lot of name-calling and alleged backstabbing.

Harry stood by and let him. He was actually a little worried about what Ron might do if he had tried to interrupt him.

Ron´s eyes settled on Hermione, who had moved to stand next to Harry defensively. He studied her for a moment and then added in a softer, but no less livid tone, "Guess I´ve lost both of my friends now," and pushed roughly past the two of them. "Rita Skeeter wasn´t too far off her mark about you, Hermione."

Harry caught the series of looks exchanged between Hermione and Ginny. Hermione seemed startled only slightly by Ron´s callous and uncalled for censure and Ginny seemed determined to follow behind Ron and make his apologies for flying off the handle. Hermione turned to watch Ron´s lanky form stalk off toward the glittering water. Harry turned to watch as well and Ginny skirted timidly around the two of them, muttering a quiet, "I´m sorry," which in Harry´s opinion was totally uncalled for. She hadn´t done anything wrong and had no need to be sorry for any part of that scene. That scene was Ron´s fault entirely, from anyone´s viewpoint. If he were sorry for any of it, Ron would have to apologize for himself.

"Well, that didn´t go well at all," Hermione observed sarcastically. "He´s more upset than I would have thought."

Harry could only agree with a nod, having lost his voice somewhere on the path between there and the lake. His hopes for Ron coming around sooner than later dashed along the way as well. He let out the breath he´d been holding and the two silently agreed to return to the common room and out of the sun.

"I think I´m going to grab my books and head to the library," Hermione said, breaking the long silence as they climbed the marble staircase and headed for the Tower. "You coming?" she added, climbing through the portrait hole and into the common room.

Harry surveyed the empty room and the blazing fire then answered, "No. I don´t have anything to study for, I´ll just stay here."

Hermione shrugged and dashed upstairs.

As Harry approached the cluster of cushy chairs by the fire, he noticed that he wasn´t, in fact, alone. Alicia Spinnet was smiling up at him from one of the chairs that had, up until then, concealed her presence.

"Sorry, I didn´t know anyone else was here," Harry stammered as Alicia motioned for him to take the chair next to her. As he sat, she surveyed him carefully.

"Ron blames you for not making the team, doesn´t he?" she asked heading straight to the point of the matter. Harry nodded. "I was afraid of that. I´m sorry, Harry," she added sympathetically.

"He thinks it was me-," Harry began to explain and Alicia nodded in understanding.

"So why don´t you just tell him that you voted for him?" Alicia asked diplomatically.

"I promised the team I wouldn´t-," Harry began to say but stopped as Alicia held up a hand.

"Harry, just tell him. That rule is total crap. No one really follows it, you know," she said with a slight chuckle.

Harry, however, remained grave and serious. "If I told Ron that it wasn´t me then he would automatically suspect Fred or George. That´s not exactly fair, is it?" Harry asked hopelessly.

"Do you think Ron would believe you if you did tell him how you voted," Alicia asked in answer to his question.

Harry thought about this for a moment and spoke slowly, "I dunno. He´s very mad at me. I don´t think he would believe anything that I said at the moment."

"Then, your telling him won´t do either of you any good," she said very decidedly, "Tell you what, I´ll talk to Fred and tell him what´s going on with Ron. I´m sure he wouldn´t mind talking to Ron. If he´s to be mad at anyone it should be Fred, not you, Harry."

A wave of relief suddenly washed over him. Finally, there was an end in sight to all of this madness. Ron would surely listen to Fred. Harry nodded and was about to accept Alicia´s proposal when he heard the distracted conversation of Fred and George as the two approached from the dormitory stairs.

As the two boys passed Alicia and Harry, George threw and envelope at Harry and added, "Thomas delivered that this morning." With a grin they continued out the portrait hole and down the hall.

Alicia watched them carefully until they were safely out of hearing distance and then turned back to Harry, "Do you mind if I talk to Fred about all of this, Harry?"

"Not at all, if you think it´ll do any good." Harry shrugged hoping secretly that it would do some good. It wasn´t very pleasant being on Ron´s list, he was fast finding out.

Alicia nodded and headed out the portrait hole and after Fred.

Harry sat back and stared at the fire absently for a moment before reaching down and picking Anni´s letter up from his lap. He opened it and read.

It was basically a list of the pranks she had managed to pull in her first week, followed by praise for her new owl. At the end of the letter she added a few lines about how sweet George was for giving her Thomas and finally, the closing remark made Harry shake his head darkly. It read: "How did Ron make out in the trials for your team? You have to tell me everything."

Oh there was a lot to tell, Harry thought, but nothing good, however.

He folded the letter and stuffed it in a pocket of his trousers and drifted off by the fire. He really hadn´t gotten much sleep the night before and he hadn´t even realized that he had begun to doze in the common room.

Abruptly shaken from his peaceful slumber by the warm fire, Harry sat up about three hours later. He tried desperately to remember the strange images that had passed over his eyelids as he dreamt. He couldn´t shake the odd feeling of foreboding that the images had brought with them. He vaguely remembered a sword. The sword of Gryffindor, perhaps. It was the only sword that he had actually seen, though, try as hard as he might, he couldn´t recall that image that he had seen perfectly only a few seconds before.

"Harry?" a disembodied voice called his name, softly prodding his shoulder to wake him. Harry adjusted his glasses and waited for his eyes to focus. A slight, fuzzy reddish blur gently dissolved itself into Ginny who was standing next to his chair, staring at him.

"Aren´t you hungry at all?" she asked timidly removing her hand from his arm and placing it into a pocket of her robes.

"What time is it?" he asked her, groggily looking about the room and seeing no one else there. "How long have I slept?" he asked himself, feeling sheepish at the same moment.

"Its ten after six. Harry are you alright," Ginny gave a tentative raise of her eyebrows.

"Fine, Ginny. Just didn´t get a lot of sleep last night is all," Harry explained as he stood to stretch.

"I´m sorry about all of that, Harry," Ginny murmured, not meeting his eyes, "down by the lake, I mean. Ron was just upset. He didn´t know that it was Fred-."

"Fred talked to Ron?" Harry cut Ginny off. She nodded but said nothing. Harry noticed, not for the first time, that Ginny was looking paler than usual and there were dark smudges under her eyes. Harry wondered for a moment if she had been sick, but felt that it would be nosy to ask.

"Where is he, d´you know? I need to talk to him," he asked taking Anni´s letter from his pocket and scribbling a hurried reply and folding it to take up to the Owlery after dinner.

"He´s at dinner with everyone else," Ginny shrugged and retreated up the stairs to the girls´ dormitories.

Curious, Harry thought, that Ginny was skiving off dinner. He dismissed the thought. Maybe she wasn´t hungry.

He hurried through the portrait hole and down to dinner to find Ron.

As he passed the empty Transfiguration classroom, however, all thoughts of talking with Ron were driven far from his mind. Harry heard a familiar voice call his name as he passed the doorway to the empty classroom.

Harry turned around and his throat constricted as he gulped at the unexpected sight of Cho Chang.

"Can we have a talk?" she asked in a trembling voice.

***

Harry swallowed hard. He had a feeling that the conversation he was about to have with Cho would be in no way pleasant and he reluctantly conceded. "Sure," he said, hoping that it had come across in a very off-hand, I-don´t-mind-at-all way.

He was startled at the grave look on her face. She looked terrible, he was sorry to admit. She had that sort of deadened, haunted look on her pale and drawn face, reminding Harry of Sirius as he was, just out of Azkaban, but to a lesser extent.

Harry took a seat at one of the desks closest to the door, the thought of having a quick escape at hand ever present in the back of his reeling mind.

Watching her pace was maddening. Harry wanted her to get to the point. The next moment he was admonishing himself for his lack of patience with her. The least he could give her, he thought, was a few minutes to get whatever it was that was bothering her off of her chest.

She stopped pacing abruptly and spoke, "I don´t really know you that well," she began. Her words were so strained that it was apparent to Harry that she was forcing herself to say this against her will or better judgment, or both. She continued, "but I have to ask a favor of you, Harry." She met his eyes only briefly and then they automatically fell to the floor. "You don´t have to if you don´t want to though," she stammered guiltily.

Harry felt compelled to give her whatever it was she asked of him, if it might relieve half of the anxiety that she was feeling at the moment. "Anything," he said hopefully.

She turned away from him and walked toward Professor McGonagall´s vacant desk. "Tell me how Cedric died, Harry."

He was speechless for a few minutes. At first he had hoped that he misunderstood her request, but he had not. He certainly did not expect such a request. He never spoke of that night to anyone other than Dumbledore, and that was only out of necessity. He was reluctant to inflict pain so acute on Cho. Such a story could only bring about pain, he reasoned. What else could come of it? Yet, he promised her anything he could do to help--if help was to be had by such a horrendous recounting of events.

He tried another tack as a final resort. "You really don´t want to hear about it," he said uncertainly, knowing full well that it wouldn´t work. He would have to tell her.

She rounded on him and moved closer, making him very uneasy. "Tell me, please. I have to know what happened to him." Tears streamed down her pale, olive cheeks now and her voice was unsteady.

Out of pity for her and nothing else, Harry reluctantly launched into the nightmare of last June. He told her everything that involved Cedric and nothing more. He didn´t want the particular details about his involvement with the rebirthing of the most feared Dark Wizard of their time out in the open like that. He was still feeling a particularly painful pang of responsibility for the fact that Voldemort was returned to his original power.

He realized in that moment, watching Cho as she grieved Cedric, how serious their relationship had become in those final months before his death. She sat down hard on the ground and covered her face with her hands.

Harry watched on with regret. "I shouldn´t have told you, I´m sorry," He stammered guiltily. Watching her shoulders heave as she drew in every shuddering breath.

She looked up at him from where she was sitting on the floor, her lips and eyes puffy from crying. "Nonsense, Harry. None of this was your fault. Please understand that." She wiped her cheeks on the sleeve of her indigo cardigan and stood up. "Thank you for telling me all of this, Harry. I needed to hear it."

Harry gave her a weak smile and nodded. Staring at her a moment longer, he imagined her with Cedric at the Yule Ball. He remembered the unabashedly happy expressions the two of them wore the entire evening. He couldn´t even begin to comprehend how much his death had affected her. He was overcome with a sense of pity for the poor girl as he watched her mourn Cedric, but felt no hint of the childish crush he had been harboring the previous year. Indeed, too much had happened. If any of them had still fancied themselves children after all that had happened in June, they must face the realization that they would all have to grow up soon. Bad things were coming, Harry could sense them like one can smell rain on the way even if the tell tale clouds were miles off. They would all have to grow up before their time.

Harry felt that their conversation had come to and end and sensed that Cho wanted to be left with her thoughts. He couldn´t think of one appropriate thing to say as he got up to leave and so said the first thing that popped into his fuzzy mind, "So, I´ll see you at the game then?" and immediately regretted it. What an idiot!

Cho seemed to sense his uneasiness and gave him a comforting smile. "I quit the team, I´m afraid." She walked over to where he stood, his hand on the handle ready to leave. "I´m sorry you had to trudge up all of those horrible memories, but it has helped more than you can know."

She leaned over and gently kissed his cheek.

"Bye, then," Harry said weakly pushing the door open.

"I hope I see you around from time to time, Harry," she smiled and sat down in his vacant seat.

"I do, too," he agreed and shut the door to the classroom, leaving Cho to her thoughts and Harry to his as he walked back to the Tower slowly, deciding to skip dinner as he´d lost his appetite.

Harry hadn´t even noticed that he had come to the portrait of the Fat Lady who interrupted his thoughts with a, "What´s the matter dear? You look like you´ve been hit repeatedly by a Bludger."

Harry ignored the comment, however well meaning, gave the password and retreated to the common room. Seeing a shock of red hair bobbing behind the high back of a chair by the fire, Harry suddenly remembered his eagerness to talk to Ron.

"Checkmate!" Ron yelled as Seamus threw up his hands in defeat and moved to a table where Dean was working on an essay. Harry took Seamus´ vacated place and collapsed with a huff, taking his glasses off and passing a weary hand over his eyes. Even with the long and nearly peaceful nap he had taken today, he felt ready to crash again.

Ron noticed his friend´s peculiar behavior immediately and voiced his concern. "Harry what is it? What´s wrong?"

"Talked to Cho just now," Harry informed him and Ron didn´t seemed to pick up on the significance of this statement.

"Oh. What did she have to say?" he asked dimly.

"She wanted to talk about Cedric," Harry said, giving his friend a little disbelieving glance as if he was surprised that he hadn´t picked up on it yet. He replaced his glasses and sat up to help Ron clear the chessboard between them.

"Ah," Ron said, apparently enlightened, "Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry smile, grateful for Ron´s show of concern and answered, "I´m fine. But I don´t think Cho is. D´you know she quit the team?" Harry was eager to change the subject.

"Really?" Ron said, surprised by the news, "First I´ve heard of it." He shrugged.

Harry only nodded.

Seeing that Harry would rather talk about anything else, Ron turned the conversation.

"Listen Harry, I talked to Fred," Ron began tentatively.

"No. It´s okay, Ron, really. I understand. I´m just glad you´re speaking to me again, leaving off yelling at me and calling me a liar," he added with a half smile. Ron blushed with embarrassment at the allusion to the earlier conversation that they´d had by the lake.

"I´m sorry, Harry, I really am," Ron stammered staring intently at Harry.

"Ron, I was joking. I forgive you. It was an honest mistake-," Harry explained.

"I should have believed you, though," Ron looked guilty and Harry had had enough serious conversation for one day and so decided to lighten the mood.

"Play me in chess and if I win you have to make a public apology standing on that table," Harry indicated the table where Dean and Seamus were jointly revising an essay on Runes, "If you win, which is entirely likely, you forget about the entire thing."

"Deal," Ron said with a wide grin.

"Let the Ron Weasley chess game-type-flogging begin," Harry announced, with one move of his white pawn. Ron chuckled slightly and conceded.

***

Harry, Ron and Hermione descended the dark and drafty stone staircase into a hall, much the same in character. They entered the dungeon where Professor Snape´s Potions class typically met. Half of the class had already assembled and taken their seats, including Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and a dozen other Slytherins Harry despised.

As he took a seat close to the back of the room with Ron and Hermione, he could hear Malfoy´s overly audible comments about Ron´s performance at the Quidditch Trials. "And he was beat out by that Muggle-born, Thomas, who´d probably never ridden a broom in his life."

"Ignore him, Ron," Hermione instructed under her breath as she patted his arm appeasingly.

Harry watched as Ron turned a furious gaze from Malfoy, who sneered briefly in his direction, to Dean who turned around to give him an apologetic sort of shrug.

Ron shook it off, something highly out of character for him and something Harry would have thought impossible, given the situation.

Someone at the front of the room cleared their throat impatiently and the class turned their attention to a haggard looking, sleep deprived Snape, who was even paler than he had been last time Harry had seen him--if that was possible without going transparent all together.

Seeing him in this state, Harry made a mental note not to push his buttons today.

"I am putting forth this warning in advance," Snape calmly surveyed his class, "I have already taken fifty points from Gryffindor this afternoon, do not give me a reason to take more." His coal black eyes settled on Harry, Ron and Hermione as he finished, as if to communicated that this warning applied to the three of them specifically.

Snape entered into a discussion on Cloaking Potions, pacing at the front of the room as the class sat fixed to their seats, afraid to make the slightest move and lose their house points. The class was divided into pairs and set to work on drafting their own weak form of the complicated concoction. Snape passed between the rows of students to check their progress and criticize them often.

When he had reached a safe distance from their table, Ron turned to Harry to observe, "He´s back, but he looks like hell!"

"Do you think he was there? You know, with them?" Harry asked, tossing a handful of Mandrake leaves into the bubbling cauldron.

"Where else could he have been this entire time?" Ron shrugged, consulting his potions book for instructions.

After class they met Hermione in the hall. She had stayed behind to help Neville clean up the ooze that had leaked from his cauldron when he removed it from the heat a bit too late, losing another twenty points for Gryffindor.

"Did you two notice how, well, awful Professor Snape looked?" she asked with mild concern.

"We noticed," said Ron casually.

"He was with the Death Eaters all this time," Hermione whispered conspiratorially, "I know it."

The three of them stopped in front of the portrait hole and Ron gave the password.

Harry rushed upstairs to change for Quidditch practice and grab his Firebolt. The team was meeting down on the pitch in ten minutes. When Harry entered the room, he was surprised to see a Tawny owl perched on his pillow, a letter tied to its leg.

Harry threw the pile of books he was lugging onto the bed and quickly undid the string, relieving the owl of its burden. The letter was contained in a blank, white envelope. There was nothing at all written on it.

Harry examined the letter curiously as the owl fluttered off through the open window.

As he opened it, however, he immediately recognized the hurried writing that filled the single page of parchment. It was from Sirius. Harry hoped inwardly, scanning the page, that it didn´t contain any horrible news.

Harry,

Remus and I are on the trail of something very important to the cause. I am afraid I cannot take long to write. We will be heading for the continent in the morning. I just wanted to check in on you. I hope you are settled in well at school. You haven´t written in a while and so your first two weeks at school remain a mystery to me, but I hope you´re doing well. I know how worried you were about coming back to Hogwarts, but trust me that everything will be fine and you are in the safest place I can think to keep you. You are well protected there with Dumbledore, I assure you, Harry. But all the same, I cannot be there with you, in person, so I would greatly appreciate it if you kept me updated often. I regret that the task at hand will not allow me much time to answer your letters, but hearing from you is important to me. Please let me know immediately if you have any more dreams or if anything at all out of the ordinary occurs. Please promise me, Harry. Also, don´t hesitate to go to Dumbledore with anything that bothers you, especially any new dreams. That´s very important. If you should have any more pain in your scar or any dreams, please go to Dumbledore and owl me immediately.

Please be safe, Harry. No wondering about the castle, as you are often prone to do. It´s not safe at this time.

Sirius

Harry sat down at the foot of his bed, letter still in hand. He felt awful that he had made Sirius worry and yet he was oddly comforted by the fact that someone was worrying about him.

He folded the letter, making a mental note to write back after practice and send the letter out after dinner. Oh yeah, he remembered that he hadn´t sent Anni´s letter either and placed both on his desk to remind himself to take them down with him to dinner.

Right now, he was late for practice.

As Harry ran down to the Quidditch pitch he heard Angelina rant to the other five team members in a very Oliver Wood-like tone, "We´re going to make it two in a row, team!" she shouted vehemently.

Fred, finding her zeal amusing corrected, "Actually, Angelina, its not two in a row. Last year Quidditch was cancelled and therefore..." he trailed off as Angelina shot him a warning glance.

Harry joined the others while Angelina continued with a list of diversionary tactics to cover for the practice session.

"Let´s get it right, team. The Ravenclaw match is in three weeks," she demanded as the team broke off into groups for warm-up.

Throughout practice, Harry was impressed with Dean´s abilities as Keeper. He had proven to be equal in skill to their former Keeper, and in some ways, far superior to Oliver´s talent. Their chances at the Quidditch Cup looked better than ever.

After practice, Harry ran quickly back up to Gryffindor Tower. He was eager to write Sirius back.

He deposited the Firebolt in his trunk and picked up the letter, rereading it. Taking a blank piece of parchment, he quickly wrote out an apology for his absence in writing for the last two weeks. He explained how busy he was and his slight problem with Ron. He promised, at the end of the letter, that should anything at all out of the ordinary happen, he and Dumbledore would be the first to know about it.

He changed out of his practice robes and grabbed both of the letters, stuffing them in his pocket to take to the Owlery later.

As he descended the staircase from the dormitories into the common room he caught the unmistakable sound of Fred and George discussing the details of one of their infamous plots.

"Can´t do it tonight, we have detention, remember?" George warned, or maybe it was Fred.

"Damn! Tomorrow night, then?" the other asked.

"Sounds good," George conceded, Harry could see upon entering the room that the last one to speak was, in fact, George.

He interrupted their conversation curiously, "What´s the detention for?"

He took a seat across from Fred as they related the story.

"Snape," Fred replied simply.

Realization dawned on Harry, "Was it the two of you that lost fifty points for Gryffindor earlier today?" he asked.

George nodded, "What else did that slimy git say about us?"

"Nothing," Harry shrugged, "What exactly did you do?"

The two of them exchanged mischievous grins. "Well," George launched into an explanation of how the two of them had earned detention from Snape. "Fred was being a stupid prat and passing a note in class. Something about Angelina´s plan for revenge he´d stumbled onto. But that´s not the point. My dear brother," George glared at Fred, "was also making inferences about me and your cousin-," George was cut off by Fred.

"I didn´t know Snape was watching," he shrugged.

"Anyway, Snape did see you passing that very incriminating piece of parchment and asked to see it," George glared harder at his brother. All of this was very entertaining, Harry thought.

Fred took the ball and ran with it, "George took the paper and promptly shoved it into his mouth and ate it." They both dissolved into raucous laughter. Harry followed suit. After a while he gained enough composure to ask, "What is your detention then?"

"Gutting rats," Fred said with a wrinkled nose followed by a noise of disgust from George. "Aw, but it was worth it," George conceded, "just to see the veins popping out on Snape´s forehead, he must have turned at least five shades of red."

"Priceless," Fred added.

"Fred," Harry added finally, after a moment of uncontrollable laughter.

"Yeah?" Fred answered as he sobered up a bit.

"Thanks for clearing things up with Ron," finished Harry.

"Oh, no problem, mate. I was a bit surprised myself that he hadn´t suspected me automatically," he replied honestly. "He´s still ignoring me, but he´ll get over it," he added with a careless shrug.

Harry smiled and headed for the portrait hole and to the Owlery with his letters. As he did, Angelina, Alicia and Katie entered the common room laughing hard. They spotted Fred and George by the fire. Angelina approached the two of them and ruffled Fred´s hair playfully as she joked with George, "Hey, billy-goat, when´s your detention tonight?"

George made a comment that was lost on Harry as Alicia had come over to him and asked, "Is everything okay with Ron?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, thanks for talking with Fred. Ron´s stopped ignoring me."

She smiled in reply. She was obviously pleased with her work and stated that it was all her pleasure to help.

Harry walked out and up to the Owlery.

***

Ron and Hermione were already sitting in the Great Hall when Harry came in for dinner. He was immediately startled by their identical, gloomy expressions.

"What´s going on you two," he asked anxiously.

Ron tossed a copy of the Daily Prophet on Harry´s empty plate. "It´s started," he added darkly, glancing at Hermione who was staring at her food glumly. Harry looked between the two of them then picked up the paper. His stomach seemed to drop instantly and unpleasantly as he read.

Dark Mark Appears Over House in Thorpe Willoughby, York. Three Dead.

At approximately one-thirteen this morning, neighbors in the small town of Thorpe Willoughby in the county of York awoke to discover the residence of 420 Candlewick Street in smoldering ruins. Several eyewitnesses are reported to have seen the Dark Mark over the scene of the crime in the early morning hours after the attack.

The home of former ministry official in the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, Simon Beckett, was reportedly besieged by several dark, hooded figures that the wizarding world have come to know as Death Eaters, followers of the Dark Arts faction headed up by the most feared Dark Wizard of our time. Although the leader of this Dark Arts Terrorist Group has not been seen in England for more than a decade, this event follows the same attack pattern that the Death Eaters have been known for in the past. We remind you that attacks very much the same in nature to this most recent even echo those that littered the countryside during the rise of the feared He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, before his apparent demise in autumn of 1981.

However, the Minister of Magic has denied all claims that any resurgence of the Dark Forces has taken place. "It appears to be a case of several rogue Death Eaters, or perhaps a copycat group, acting of their own accord. Much like last year´s attack on four Muggles at the Quidditch World Cup," stated Ministry Spokeswizard, Bernard Fennely-Martin.

Former Ministry Employee Simon Beckett was at home at the time of the attack with his wife Belladonna and their grandson Daniel. The three perished in an out-of-control fire that resulted in the destruction of the home, further information pending investigation.

At the bottom of the article Harry watched as smoke billowed from a pile of ash and debris that used to be the Beckett home. The Dark Mark, he had seen once before at the Quidditch World Cup, loomed ominously overhead.