Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

Chapter Sixteen: Fitting the Pieces

Harry dove down the staircase and burst out into the backyard, praying that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

They weren't.

Snuffles massive paws were now playfully climbing up Harry's torso, and he gave him a great, slimy, sloppy lick on the side of the face. Harry laughed and whispered excitedly, "Cut that out!"

He obeyed by backing up a few steps and then, in the blink of an eye, Snuffles was no more. Sirius was standing over Harry, gray eyes just as bright as the moon glow.

"All right, Harry?"

Even Harry's joy at seeing Sirius was dimmed somewhat by the memory of what he'd just been through. "Well... if you want the real answer to that, it would take all night. And whatever are you doing here? If Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia see you out here--"

"They won't see us because we're leaving. Hurry up and get your things."

Harry's mouth was still open, but speech left him completely. Sirius had obviously expected this, because he said, "I'll explain it all in a minute, just hurry up and get your suitcase-- and have Hedwig fly straight back to Hogwarts."

"But... what about..."

"Your things Harry, come on."

Harry spun around and hurried upstairs, not knowing why he was doing it, but the rush of excitement in Sirius' voice was certainly contagious. "Sorry girl," he told Hedwig as he gently nudged her, waking her up. "But I'm leaving..."

Hedwig's eyes blinked sleepily.

"So you're gonna have to fly back home, okay?"

She responded with a fatigued coo, and Harry threw his clothes into his bag, hurrying back out into the hall. He paused at Dudley's door and opened it cautiously.

"Dudley," he whispered.

Dudley's mouth was open wide and his snoring rivaled that of his own father's. An open notebook lay on top of his nightstand and Harry picked up the pen alongside it to scribble a note. (His writing was especially sloppy since he was not used to Muggle pens and it kept slipping in his unaccustomed fingers).

Dudley,

Sirius came to get me in the middle of the night. I don't know what's going on, but I'll owl you when I find out.

Thanks for being there.

--Harry

Harry's eyes lingered on Dudley's nearly illegible handwriting that cluttered

the notebook page with phone numbers crossed out and notes with check marks: one line written in thick red ink simply read: "Sever All Ties."

But this was not the time to snoop into Dudley's private journal. Sirius was waiting, and Harry flew out of the room and into the yard where Sirius, cloaked in black, was pacing back and forth.

"Come on, tell me what's going on," said Harry as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"I'll explain it to you all when we get back."

"Well, my Firebolt is at Hogwarts, so I guess I'll ride on yours?"

Sirius seemed amused. "No good. Going by broom will take too long."

"Oh... I... don't think I have any Floo powder with me..."

"Don't need any," said Sirius, "besides I refuse to travel by Floo. We'll have to apparate."

Harry laughed in stunned amazement. "Hang on a minute, Sirius. Y-you forget that I can't apparate!"

"What do you mean you can't? You've been taking classes all year!"

"But I haven't had my exam yet! What if... what if I get... you know, spliched?"

"You've finished the course, haven't you? All that's left was your exam, right? Well, either you can do it or you can't. The results of your first try would be the same regardless if you were doing this in the ministry instead or out here."

Harry was not convinced by this. He shook his head furiously, "No Sirius, no way. It's easy for you, but... what if I..."

"Harry, come on, don't get panicky on me: you're capable of things that Wizards twice your age can't even dream of doing."

"But... but we can't apparate onto Hogwarts grounds anyway..."

"Exactly. We're stopping at my home in Hogsmeade first before going back to campus."

Come on, think up another excuse...

"But... but Sirius, going from here to Hogsmeade, that's an entirely different country! And... and anything could go wrong, I've read about grown wizards who've ended up--"

"Harry," said Sirius sharply, "this is something I know you can do otherwise I wouldn't ask you to do it. Come on, we'll have to do it at the end of Magnolia Crescent-- it's protected here."

Harry frowned, but didn't respond. Sirius' confidence in him was admirable, but Harry still felt terribly uncertain about the idea. And as they walked to the end of Privet Drive and on to Magnolia Crescent, Harry was thoroughly convinced that doing such a thing would be committing suicide.

"Right," said Sirius, "now it's easy as one two three. Go on, you know how to do it. Close your eyes and think of the destination: the corner of Ricket Lane and Licket Road. And then you just... do it."

Harry was bracing himself for the worst. This is a bad idea, oh god, this is a very, very bad idea...

Perhaps it would be best if he were more positive...

Just... just remember all you learned... pretend that it's Ariah Warwick and you're at the Ministry doing your final...

"Ready."

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes and repeated in his mind, Ricket Lane and Licket Road, Ricket Lane and Licket Road...

There was a loud rushing noise and his heard began to spin, and the image of Sirius' house began to grow foggy. Keep focused, Harry, don't loose focus: Ricket Lane and Licket Road.

The blankness in his mind's eye was filling with up with... color... it was taking shape... an empty street...

A deafening pop burst into his ear, frightening him, and Harry's eyes shot open. His vision was foggy thanks to his glasses-- little wonder they were foggy, the way Harry was sweating so. He cleaned them with his shirt and the world around him came into focus.

Sirius was in front of him, a smile spread across his face.

"Well done, Harry! Beautiful!"

Harry realized that he'd been holding his breath for only God knows how long. He exhaled and his muscles relaxed.

"What did I tell you," said Sirius motioning for Harry to follow, "not so much as a hair out of place-- and that's saying something for someone with hair as wild as yours. How do you feel?"

"Er... actually... I feel fine. A bit tingly, but... fine."

"Oh yeah," said Sirius nostalgically, "I remember that tingly feeling. Don't worry, it goes away by the fifth time or so. Your body gets used to it after a while, you know."

Harry was following Sirius around a bend at the far end of Hogsmeade, towards a wood house that rested quite out of the way. It could have belonged to a bent over old lady with white tulips lining the front walk and planters below the windows. Except the flowers were terribly overgrown which meant that a little old grandma certainly did not live there.

"Is Remus home from St. Mungo's yet?"

"Yes, yes," said Sirius quickly, hurrying up the steps, "he was released from the hospital on Monday, and he's doing wonderfully. Has his appetite back and everything-- more of an appetite, actually. I think they were starving him at St. Mungo's. At least, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they were: they're everywhere, you know."

"Who's everywhere?"

"The cowards. The damned idiots who are prejudiced towards werewolves." Sirius had stopped in his tracks, his hand paused over the front doorknob. Harry could see Sirius' face perfectly in the moonlight, and he realized the Sirius could probably see him just as clearly.

"Harry... you look like you haven't slept in days."

"Do I?" said Harry feebly.

"What's wrong," said Sirius, folding his arms. "What's happened?"

Harry dropped his stare from Sirius' piercing gray eyes down to his feet. The thrill of apparating with Sirius had made him, ever so briefly, forget. Why did he have to remember? He didn't want to remember! The misery washed over him and he felt everything in his body go weak again.

"Nothing," came the inevitable, pitiable lie.

"Well now," said Sirius after a crushing silence, "for you to lie about it must have been something awful. Seeing as how you were at Privet Drive, it could have been only one of two people: Dudley or Sophie. And the fact you tried to brush it off, I'm wagering that it's the latter of the two."

Harry couldn't respond. He could hardly breathe.

"Am I right?" Sirius took a seat on the front porch step and waited, patiently, for Harry to follow suit. "Is it what I think happened?"

How could Sirius expect him to talk, when it was taking all he had to not scream and swear and cry like a bloody baby. He couldn't help his anger. "Well that really depends, Sirius, because if you're thinking that she dumped me then yes, it's exactly what you're thinking."

He wasn't mad at Sirius, and Sirius apparently understood this.

"What did she say," he asked quietly.

"Oh, you know, the usual. That I'm the most wonderful guy she'll ever know, that she never meant to hurt me, that I deserve so much more, all that rubbish. And then she told me that all this time she hadn't really been in love with me. That she was tired of pretending--"

"Impossible," said Sirius, "you don't often see a girl as crazy over a bloke as she is about you."

"But she didn't mean it, Sirius. That's what hurt the most. I opened up to her. She knew more about me than probably even you, Sirius. It meant the world to me and..."

Shit! His voice cracked. Anymore, Harry, and you're going to loose it. Anymore and you're going to... But he had to say it out loud. "... It didn't mean bollocks to her."

"But did she say why?"

"Oh sure. She said because she couldn't take it anymore. Me being... me being who I am, she couldn't live with me always being in danger. She said that when she looks at her Dad and sees how broken his is, she doesn't want to end up the same way. She's convinced that something is going to happen to me like it did to her Mum. She says that she's not the sort of girl who can handle it."

"So she's afraid?"

"I don't know what she is Sirius, all I know is that she's been leading me on for an entire bloody year."

He avoided Sirius' eyes like the plague and tried desperately to choke back what was welling up in him. A stubborn teardrop managed to break free and it splattered onto the tops of his shoes. Stop it, Harry, just stop it...

Sirius telling him "It's all right. Do whatever the hell you want, understand?"

But even that was painful because Harry had once told that very thing to Sophie--everything went back to her. Everything.

"Do what I want?" Harry said, the persistent tremor in his voice getting stronger. "All that I want is for Tuesday to never have happened."

It was the quietest the Harry had ever known Sirius.

He finally did speak, but it didn't sound like him. His voice was sad and distant. "I know that you've heard a lot about... me when I was your age..."

"Yeah. Bet you were never dumped."

Sirius sighed. "Well... I was good at a lot of things when I was your age. Especially when it came to... er... winning the opposite sex. But you know, love is an altogether different story. Scary thing, that is. Learning to... to really love someone was like learning a new language to me." He laughed softly. "There was this one bird, a mate of Lily's actually, that I really fell for. She thought I was arrogant and... she was right, of course."

Harry had to smile.

"But somehow I managed to convince her that she and I would make sense together... took a lot of work convincing her. And Harry, it was the best experience of my life, being with her... even though it lasted all of six months. She just finally saw me for what I was."

"What were you?"

"Still the arrogant bastard," he laughed. "I don't think she understood that I was actually trying but, like I said, it was a new language for me. You just can't pick up Mermish overnight, you know, and I just couldn't pick up the right way to deal with a relationship." Sirius was staring ahead, his voice caustically amused.

"So she dumped you?"

"First and only time it ever happened. Actually it was the only time because... she was the last girl that I ever opened up to." He shook his head. "Didn't fancy too much the feeling of... not being..."

"Wanted?"

Sirius nodded, and his voice softened wistfully. "I saw your Mum and Dad and thought it just looked so easy. But it was far from it..." He suddenly turned to look directly into Harry's eyes. "And Harry, there is nothing at all easy about having someone let you go. Except for blaming yourself, now that comes quite easily. The hard part is understanding that sometimes it's not your fault..." He sighed. "I know you won't believe me, because it took years for me to believe it myself... but you'll learn."

He sighed and put his arm around Harry who couldn't resist letting himself fall into his Godfather's embrace, grabbing hold of Sirius' jacket sleeve tightly. And they sat there... for God knows how long... nothing being said and nothing needing to be said.

Finally, Sirius nudged Harry away and they both stood up. Hary cleared his throat and did his best to make himself look like not such a mess.

"They're probably wondering where we are," said Sirius as he opened the front door.

It was dark inside, except for the shaft of orange light that was peeking out from under the door at the far end of the hall.

The door flew open and, to Harry's shock, there were people looking up at him when he walked in: three of them, all sitting around an oversized, deeply varnished dinner table, looking as though they'd been waiting for quite some time.

Remus, Ron and Hermione.

"Thought you said you'd be back in two shakes of a Hippogriff's tail," said Hermione whose hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and Harry could have sworn he saw her pajamas peeking out from under her robe. And Ron... well, Ron always looked more or less the same, bless him.

"Yeah, well, ran into a snag." Sirius collapsed into one of the high back seats at the table.

"Snag," Remus repeated skeptically. His face was still sickly pale, but his eyes were full of vigor and life.

How close, how very close he'd come to loosing Remus...

"Nothing major," Sirius was saying casually, "besides, Harry did a terrific job apparating."

Hearing those words did make Harry swell with a noticeable feeling of pride. I did, didn't I... I actually did it...

Remus' face lit up. "Harry! Well done!"

"Wicked," Ron was saying, his eyes wide but shining, "that's brilliant!"

"Harry," Hermione said, her back straight and rigid, "you mean you apparated--"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"--without approval from the Ministry?"

"Oh, for crying out loud Hermione, who the hell cares? Harry has just apparated! Did it hurt, mate? When Fred and George learned to do it, they said that it felt really strange the first few times. But even they haven't apparated to a different country yet, and they've been apparating over a year. They said they're a bit nervous about doing the intercontinental stuff."

"As they should be." Sirius and Harry joined them at the table. "But I knew Harry could do it."

"Of course he could," said Remus, winking at Harry.

"Besides, there was no choice in the matter. It was really the only way to get back here."

"And just why was it so important that I get back up here tonight?"

The lightness of spirit at the table dropped the minute Harry's question left his lips. Shadowy eyes looked at each other, waiting for someone to speak up to answer Harry.

Sirius seemed up for it, and his gray eyes turned dark and mournful. "You did hear about the double murder yesterday, I trust?"

Harry nodded. "That makes eight all together, right?"

"Yes," said Hermione sadly, "and now we know what the ninth attack will be."

Harry's mouth dropped open.

"How..."

"Miss Granger," said Remus, "she believes that she's worked together the pieces and has found the answer."

"Well what is it?" Harry urged, nervously excited by the news. An anxiousness that very quickly turned to terrified disbelief.

Because what she said next was thoroughly impossible to believe.

"It's Hogwarts," she said gravely, "they're going to attack Hogwarts next."

"What did you say?"

It was an inevitable question, wasn't it? For surely he must have misunderstood her.

"I said that Hogwarts is going to be the next target."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Look..." she pulled out a piece of parchment. "It was a code all right, I just wasn't looking at it properly. And it was so easy: right in front our faces the whole time."

Harry stared at the piece of parchment as she tapped it and the fancy curvatures of Hermione's writing appeared:

Heaterwood Hollow

Owlery in Edinburgh

Giles Garring

William Weatherby Jr.

Aida Devereaux

Remus Lupin

Thelma Snyder

Sabrina Snyder

Then the letters on the parchment swirled together, spun and in another instant he was looking at the word:

H O G W A R T S

Through his startled stupor he managed to say the words, "it can't be" and "impossible."

"I was scared to death when I saw it too."

"Hermione," he said sharply, searching Hermione's tired brown eyes for some sort of reason. "You can't actually be serious."

"Believe me Harry, I would love nothing more than to just dismiss this. But we can't just dismiss it. And don't forget about Professor Trelawney's prediction... 'the ninth attack was so horrible that it made her faint. Well, if there ever was a Professor that loved Hogwarts it's her, and seeing a vision of Hogwarts devastated would be enough to make anyone faint, especially her."

"But the death eaters," said Harry with defensive ardor, "they were killing people they had a grudge against! Remember all that research you did on the victims? I mean... Hermione, maybe it's just chance that the victims happen to spell out the word 'Hogwarts'..." but Harry could hear his own words and knew he was wrong.

Nothing with Voldemort was chance.

"Well, the death eaters chose their victims very carefully," said Hermione, "What if Lord Voldemort chose Hogwarts as his target? He has a grudge against it and all it stands for: peace, tolerance, and harmony within Wizarding Kind. Dumbledore is there... you're there... it's the symbol of the strength of the Wizarding world itself. It is entirely possible that these attacks have been screaming at us what Voldemort's final move will be, and we just haven't been seeing it."

"No," said Harry, gaining confidence as he remembered all that Arabella had told him. "Hermione, it isn't possible. They can't attack Hogwarts. You don't understand, but I know they can't. It just... isn't possible."

"That's precisely what the rest of the Order said when we presented this information to them," said Lupin calmly. "Hermione sent word to me and Sirius right away since Dumbledore wasn't on school grounds. Even if it hadn't been Miss Granger we would have taken the news seriously-- but seeing as how she has a something of a reputation for being right, well, we felt it best to brought to the Order's attention."

"Hermione," said Harry in breathless awe, "you spoke before the Order?"

"Hardly. No, Remus and Sirius stated my case for me."

"Which, I assure you, was greeted with the expected skepticism. Alistair Moody was particularly critical and kept using the phrase 'infernal hogwash,' I think it was. But the fact that it was Miss Granger who determined the evidence certainly made Dumbledore listen closely," said Lupin, beaming proudly at Hermione.

She was visibly well flattered by this. "Thank you."

"And Dumbledore wanted you here, Harry, with the rest of the students and... well, in our sight."

Harry was keenly studying their faces. "Do you believe it? Sirius, come on, do you believe it could happen? I mean..." he chose his words carefully, "Arabella told me... she told me a lot of things the night before you left Privet Drive. Voldemort can't attack Hogwarts. It really is impossible."

Sirius smiled strangely. "Impossibility is a word that, unfortunately, Voldemort was never well acquainted with. That's why we take everything seriously."

"You mean like Hufflepuff?"

Everyone stared at Ron who instantly flushed cherry apple red.

"Er... you know what I mean. We all know that Hufflepuff isn't a threat to our Quidditch team. But, we still take 'em seriously, even though the idea of them beating us is ridiculous."

Sirius had to smile. "Nothing like a good dose of Weasley logic," he said happily. He looked up at his wall clock and yawned. "Perhaps you lot should be getting back to campus grounds now. I told McGonagall I wouldn't keep you terribly late."

Everything was too much for Harry. As difficult as it was to believe that he'd both been dumped by his girlfriend and had done a successful inter-continental within forty-eight hors, this newest revelation of his home, of Hogwarts, being in some sort of immediate danger was just impossible to stomach.

But Sirius and Remus were right... Hermione's intuition was generally always right. But she's just human like the rest of us, she makes mistakes. And this has to be a mistake... then again... Sirius did say that 'impossibility' was a word Voldemort is unacquainted with...

The three said goodbye, Harry telling Remus how relieved he was that he was feeling better.

"Gives you a new outlook on things," said Remus good-naturedly. "I don't think I'll ever complain about the foul taste of Wolfsbane ever again..." he chuckled softly. "Saved my life, didn't it?"

They parted, and Ron and Hermione followed Harry towards one of the seven Hogsmeade secret passages to Hogwarts that was just down the road from Sirius' house. There was a small, much ignored patch of park grass featuring only one sitting bench and a neglected statue of Wendelin the Weird. Harry pulled on Wendelin's outstretched arm which made acted as a sort of lever-- the statue slid a good two feet to the left, and Harry threw a satisfied smile at Ron and Hermione.

"Come on, then," he said, sliding into the passageway.

They were close at Harry's feet and kept their heads ducked in the passageway.

"What's with you tonight Harry," Ron was saying as they hurried along, "You've got a sulk on like nobody's business."

"Yeah," said Hermione, "and I'm glad to see that you have such confidence in me,," Hermione said as they hurried along.

Harry slowed only slightly. "Hermione, I didn't mean to be mean back there, but how else do you expect me to react? Especially after what Professor F--" he stopped immediately, biting his tongue.

"Professor Figg? What did she say?"

Harry shook his head. "Can't tell you. And I'm not being a tosser or anything, I really can't tell you. But... after what she told me, even if Voldemort's planning to do something as crazy as come here, there's no way he can succeed."

Ron gave a snort. "Funny, that. One minute you're planning her assassination, the next minute you and her are keeping secrets from your two best friends."

"Then you know it must be something I actually can't tell you, Ron. When have I ever kept anything from you before?"

Ron and Hermione both laughed at the same time. "Oh I dunno, let's explore that," said Ron happily. "I think it probably all started second year when you didn't tell us that you were a Parselmouth, and then fourth year when--"

"That's because I didn't know I was a Parselmouth and you guys aren't being fair."

"Leave him be Ronald," said Hermione finally, "I'm sure that it's not just an ordinary secret..."

They'd reached a large round door, but Harry stopped in his tracks. He turned around and found Hermione smiling at him strangely. Her eyes met his and Harry knew all at once that she understood why he couldn't say anything.

"Right again, Herimone," he said with a smile, and then he pulled open the door.

"What," Ron was saying as they hurried towards Gryffindor Tower, "what was all that cryptic rubbish about?"

Harry and Hermione didn't answer and kept on their trek to the common room.

"Well, I don't know why I'm even bothering to tell you this since you obviously don't want to let me in on anything..."

"Oh bless," said Hermione putting her arm through Ron's as they stepped into the common room, "go on love, we're listening."

"Just thought Harry should know what happened on Tuesday."

Tuesday.

The cold returned immediately.

"Tuesday," Harry repeated quietly.

"Yeah," said Ron, "a little something called the Quidditch cup."

Harry stopped in his tracks. He turned around to find both Ron and Hermione beaming at him.

"We beat Ravenclaw?"

"Yes," said Ron, "two hundred points to one hundred and ten! It was brilliant Harry, we even pulled off a Woollongong Shimmy and everything! Ravenclaw never knew what hit 'em!"

Harry punched Ron's shoulder, "Brilliant, mate. That' brilliant! I knew we would--I knew it."

"Thank god you're back now Harry, because now he can talk to you about it nonstop-- it's all I've heard about all week!" She gave Ron a quick kiss and then hurried up the stairs to her dormitory. "See you in the morning."

Ron was talking to Harry as they changed into their pajamas, all of it to do with the match against Ravenclaw.

But the more Harry settled into his bed, the less he began to listen. Even the joy of beating Ravenclaw couldn't keep away the more important things.

He mumbled empty replies to Ron, but Sirius' voice, so quiet and honest, was all Harry heard as he drifted into uncomfortable sleep. "There is nothing at all easy about it. Except for blaming yourself, that comes quite easily. The hard part is understanding that sometimes it's no one's fault. Sometimes... it simply happens."

*

The Gryffindors were justifiably surprised to find Harry at breakfast that Friday morning, and everyone seemed quite eager to have a chat. But Harry was stabbing his plate with his fork while Ron animatedly described the details of their Ravenclaw victory on Tuesday.

"So then, Harry, so then after Davies got fouled for Blurting, Hooch called a foul on us for bumphing. Bumphing my arse, you know that Creevy's just a lousy shot. Anyway, so that's when I decided enough of this rubbish, and we pulled a Woollongong Shimmy, just like the Canons did--they couldn't bloody tell where we were! You should've seen the look on ... Harry?"

Harry looked up, startled out of his thoughts on Sophie. "Hmm? Yeah?"

Ron grimaced. "Right. What's wrong, mate?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. You've looked like death on stick ever since you got back last night."

"I'm just tired, that's all. Go on, what else happened this week?"

Harry looked back down at his plate. But it is my fault, Sirius. It's because of who I am. If were anyone but Harry Potter, life would be different.

"Oh... not much else happened. Let's see... You-Know-Who substituted for McGonagall on Wednesday--"

If I were someone else, I'd have Sophie--

"And Hermione flunked out of Ancient Runes--"

I'd be normal, everything would be normal--

"And Professor Snape gave birth to twin baby boys just yesterday."

"That's nice," said Harry blankly. But I can't change who I am, which means that I can never have her--

"HARRY!"

Harry looked up again and both Ron and Hermione were now frowning at him.

"Harry," said Hermione firmly, "what's going on with you?"

"Nothing--"

"No more of this 'I can't tell you' rubbish," said Ron, "just spill it, mate."

Harry threw his fork down on his plate, and slowly looked up at his two friends who were waiting with eager eyes.

"Right. Fine. It's about Sophie and Me. We've... we've finished."

Ron was in the midst of swallowing a bite of his scrambled eggs, and he proceeded to choke. He wheezed, Hermione smacking him on the back severely, which made him cough even harder.

It was a good thirty seconds before Ron was able to gain his composure. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY," he asked in a crackling voice.

"We had a drink at a pub two nights ago, she came all the way up from London, and... she broke it off with me."

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?"

Hermione looked supremely agitated with Ron. "Shhh," she said sternly, "keep it down, will you? Ron, let me handle this, you're just going to upset him more than he already is." She turned to Harry again and took a breath. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

Harry sighed, dreading having to tell the story... not even believing his own ears as he told it. "I can't put it anymore plainly than that: she broke it off with me. She said that she never really loved me and us staying together wouldn't be fair to either of us."

Ron was vehement. "She said that she never really loved you?"

"She said that she knew how lucky she was to have me as a boyfriend and that she couldn't pretend anymore..."

"She couldn't pretend anymore?"

"That's what she said. So I kept telling her that it was bollocks, all of it was bollocks, and that she couldn't stand there and tell me that she didn't love me. But she did stand there and tell me, and she kept crying her eyes out, telling me how she never meant to hurt me..."

"She never meant to hurt you--"

"RON, STOP REPEATING EVERYTHING I SAY!"

All three of them stared at each other, quite out of breath, and quite without words.

"And that's it?" Hermione said finally, still visibly livid, "end of story?"

"Yeah-- oh. And then, just before she got on the bus, she told me that she couldn't stand always wondering if I was gonna live to see the next day or not-- that she doesn't want what happened to her dad to happen to her--"

"So then she's scared," said Ron.

"Yes... she said she's not the sort of girl who can 'handle' something like that."

Hermione was biting her nails-- and Hermione never bit her nails.

"Well, the bit about her not loving you is pure rubbish."

Harry laughed. "Nice of you to be optimistic, but you weren't there, Hermione. She meant every word of it."

"No I wasn't, but I'm not stupid: that was a cover. In fact... she's probably so crazy over you that just the idea of you getting... er..."

"'Killed,' Hermione, the word you're looking for is 'killed.'"

"Well... yeah. The idea of that happening to you just scares her out of her mind, especially after what she saw happen to her Mum last year."

"So then she's a coward," said Ron.

Hermione nodded. "And a stupid one for pulling a stunt like this... but she can't have been serious about not loving you. That wasn't an act."

Yeah, but you didn't see the look on her face, Hermione. Her eyes... no... he was serious.

"Hermione... let's just suppose you're right for a moment: why wouldn't she just tell me she was so concerned about me? Why couldn't she--"

"What was she gonna do, Harry. Change who you are?" Hermione frowned. "She understands that simply because of who you are, you're going to find yourself... in certain situations. I mean... you're sixteen years old and you've come face to face with the Dark Lord how many times? For someone like Sophie, who just lost her Mum to the Dark Lord, I'm sure being in a relationship with someone like you who's always on the top of his list isn't exactly..."

"Easy," Ron said plainly.

Harry was shaking his head. "But she can tell me anything. Why wouldn't she tell me about how she feels?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. When you're scared... you do stupid things."

Ron sighed. "I'm sorry mate... I wish there was something I could do."

Harry managed to smile. "You're here. That's enough."

"Well," said Ron with a hopeful smile, "you're not the only one who's been... er... sacked."

"Huh?"

"Lucius Malfoy," whispered Ron with delicious relish.

Despite everything, Harry beamed in immediate satisfaction. He threw a look over his shoulder at the Slytherin table. He couldn't see Draco, but the Slytherin's were hardly talking, let alone smiling.

"Oh yeah. How'd Draco take the news his dear Dad being sacked?"

"With the typical Slyhterin stride," said Hermione, "He's been remarkably hostile."

*

Harry was hoping to see Hagrid in Care of Magical Creatures, but alas it was substituted by Professor Sprout. Hagrid always made Harry feel better, and not seeing his happy face was a real let down. The stormy cloud that had been hanging over him was back as they adjourned to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Oh Harry, he's probably off with the order," Ron said. "I mean, with what Hermione told them I'm sure they have a lot to discuss."

Harry saw Hermione's face darken, and she shook her head. "I hope they're doing more than just talking."

Harry dropped his voice to a mere hush. "I'll tell you one thing: if you're right and they are planning to come here... they're in for quite a surprise."

Hermione sighed heavily.

"Think about it Hermione," said Ron, "if there really was a threat, then why wouldn't Dumbledore have done something about it? He wouldn't keep us here if it weren't safe. Dumbledore even had Harry come back here so that he could keep an eye on him."

Harry picked up on Ron's logic and nodded, "Yes, and he wouldn't have done that if it wasn't going to be safe."

Hermione sighed and, after a very pregnant pause, said, "I hope you're right."

"Course I'm right," said Ron, "and let's hurry. If I'm late for Defense Against the Dark Arts again, Professor Figg say's she's gonna drop me from off the Astronomy Tower."

Ron needn't have worried. Professor Figg wasn't in class either. Professor McGonagall was substituting, and judging there was such rigid severity in her tone that day that neither Harry nor anyone else questioned her as to where Professor Figg was.

But Harry's mind was far from paying attention to her lecturing... it was everywhere else. On Sophie... Sirius... apparting... Hogwarts... Godric's Hollow and Lord Voldemort laughing as his mother pleaded to spare Harry's life... and that awful, chillingly high voice cackling, taunting, 'You're mine, Potter. You're mine.' And the laughter was growing... louder, all the time louder...

"Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Harry bolted awake, shocked by not just the shrill voice in his ear, but the prickling at his scar.

Professor McGonagall was standing overtop him, and the whole of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class was staring at him.

"Wha? What happened?"

The class giggled, and Professor McGonagall's frown intensified. "I trust Professor Figg doesn't put up with such behavior! Next time I catch you sleeping in my class it'll be fifty points and detention to boot, is that quite clear, Potter?"

She spun around and stormed off to the front of the classroom to continue her lesson.

He'd obviously fallen asleep--Ron was still stifling his laughter, but Hermione looked apologetic. Losing ten points to Gryffindor was nothing-- but his scar prickling... that was something. It was the second time in a week it had happened, and this time it swelled him with a morose sort of dread.

He turned to look at Ron, frowning severely. He put his hand to his scar and rubbed it.

Ron's face blanched. 'Is it burning again' he mouthed to Harry.

Harry nodded, and Ron quickly scribbled a note to Hermione whose face drained of color the minute she read it.

The class dismissed, and Professor McGonagall was nearly manic in her attempts to shoo the children out of the classroom. She didn't so much as even acknowledge Harry's existence as she brushed past him, and Harry got the distinct feeling that she too had other things on her mind.

"Is it still burning," Ron asked as they walked.

"No, it's gone now." And Harry remembered his dream. "I wouldn't worry," he said quietly, "I was having a dream when it happened... dreaming about him, actually."

"What," asked Hermione, her eyebrows narrowing.

"Well, I mean about him and the night he killed my Mum. And then the night in the graveyard with Cedric... he was laughing..." Harry shook his head. "No wonder my scar was acting up."

Hermione remained thoroughly unconvinced.

"Well Hermione," Ron whispered, "you can hardly blame Harry for dreaming about you know who. Not after all we talked about last night at Sirius' house."

"I just can't help but wonder if... if it means something else."

Harry, though he wanted so very much to believe otherwise, was thinking precisely the same thing.

"Look," said Ron, eager to break the silence, "we're having a study group right now over in the Library-- Hermione, me and Neville. You in?"

Harry stared at Ron.

Ron blushed. "Oh... er, I promised Hermione that, er, I'd study harder after Quidditch was over.

"No," said Harry with a faint smile, "you two go ahead. I'm just gonna go for a walk, I think."

Ron and Hermione smiled and before turning to leave, Hermione stepped up to Harry until she was inches from his face. "You know what I think?"

"What's that?"

"She's barking mad to let you go."