Descent into Darkness

Ron sat alone in the library. In honour of the festive season the library was decorated with bright sprigs of Holly. Sparkle charms around the window frames cast their flickering lights onto the parchment in front of him. His brow furrowed in concentration as he transcribed notes from an ancient book. He'd scrawled the best part of a foot, and paused to look back over his notes. A line appeared between his eyebrows as he stared at the sheet. "I can't even read my own handwriting," he said aloud, before screwing up the parchment and adding it to the pile beside him. He glanced at his watch, he's late, he thought, always late.

"Well, this is the last place I expected to find you."

Ron was jolted out of his thoughts and turned to see Ginny walking towards the table. "Aren't you meant to be at practice?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Probably. I had too much to do and there aren't any more matches this term. Seamus couldn't go anyway and I'm pretty sure Harry's more pressing concerns are with the Beaters." She stopped uncertainly at the table. "Anyway, I thought I'd try and find you."

He frowned, "Why?"

"Well, firstly because I was having trouble remembering what you looked like." Ron reddened; this was partially true, he hadn't been around much recently. He had been... otherwise occupied. Ginny bit her lip, "And secondly, because I wanted to tell you something."

Ron raised his eyebrows, "That sounds ominous. What is it?"

It was Ginny's turn to look embarrassed. "I had this dream," she ventured hesitantly.

"Is that all?" Ron could not disguise his relief.

"No listen, it might be important. It's been running through my head all day, you were in it. And so was Hermione."

Ron fidgeted with the lid of his inkpot. "Ah ha," he said, barely listening, "And what happened?"

"You found Hermione in the restricted section of the library. She gave you a small wooden cage with a moth inside it." She paused, waiting for his reaction.

"That's great. You do realise you're absolutely barking mad, right?"

"Wait, there's more." Ginny thought for a minute, "Hermione said that if you looked after it, it would - " she stopped.

"It would what?" he sighed with good-humour.

"Look, I know this doesn't make any sense," Ginny continued carefully, "She said that if you looked after it... it would turn into a snowy owl."

Ron laughed at her solemn expression, "You're right, it doesn't make any sense." He tried not to smile as he caught her wounded look, "Alright, I'm sorry. Did it change?"

"It's only a dream," she sniffed defensively, "They're not literal." She picked at a loose thread in the hem of her jumper. "Anyway, it didn't change, which is hardly surprising given your track-record with pet care. You let it out at night and it got lost in the dark."

"That's a shame, I imagine I got quite attached to it." It didn't take a genius to work through the imagery and Ron fought to keep his face neutral.

"You got it back. You lit a candle and it came back and flew around the flame. But every time it flew too close and got its wings burned." She shrugged, "That's it, what do you think?"

"That's fairly obvious, isn't it?" It was just a dream, after all, and it wasn't even his dream. Ginny couldn't possibly suspect; it was a coincidence, not an omen.

"You think I'm wandering onto the wrong side of the sanity/insanity line?" she asked forlornly.

Ron smiled, "Yep. Not to worry, we're used to it by now." He turned back to his shambolic notes so he wouldn't have to see her annoyed glare before she walked away. He hadn't realised how much pressure his 'relationship' with Draco was causing, his heart was beating quicker in his chest from sudden fear.

Feeling suddenly guilty he looked after her, but she was already through the door. Seconds later Harry breezed in, his hair still damp after Quidditch practice. He dropped his bag on the table and glanced round the deserted library. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

Ron sighed, "Harry, it's the last Wednesday of term." When this statement failed to raise a response, Ron continued, "Everyone's meant to be at the festival in the great hall. Although apparently the Gryffindor Quidditch team and me have been excused."

Harry smacked a hand to his forehead, "The Nativity Play!" he exclaimed.

"Seamus' pride and joy," Ron confirmed.

Harry adopted a throaty preview trailer voice-over tone, "In a world where magic and Christmas are united, comes the greatest story never told... A Finnigan production of Stable! Directed, adapted and staring Seamus Finnigan, Academy Award nominated, Golden Wand winning - "

"The very same," Ron broke in.

Harry considered this for a moment, "Ah well, won't have missed much. I helped Sir Nick practise his lines earlier and I flicked through the rest of the script then."

"Who's Nick playing?" asked Ron

"Third Wise man," Harry deadpanned.

Ron smiled, Sir Nicolas was very proud of his post-mortem theatrical career. "So," said Harry falling into a chair, "How's our project coming on?"

"Oh yeah, um, how was practice?" Ron covered, playing for time. Luckily Harry was always keen to talk about his life's passion.

"It's going alright. I mean, there are glitches but we're sorted out some pretty creative tactics."

Ron was surprised, "Oh good, it's just that Ginny said..." he trailed off awkwardly. "Um, she said that you were having difficulties with the Beaters," he ended abruptly.

Harry winced slightly, "Yeah, a bit. But Colin's created this fantastic defensive sweep manoeuvre that we're going to call the 'Creevey Cross', it's, um, quite effective." Harry paused. "Well, it not quite a manoeuvre yet, more like a gesture."

"You're all prepared to take on Slytherin next term?"

"Yeah", Harry launched into a highly technical monologue about the game plan. He didn't seem to need much encouragement to continue, which was just as well as Ron's attention was elsewhere. He felt the familiar coolness descend over him as the outside world faded into snowstorm before his eyes: