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Krysti · 05-30-2008, 09:40 PM

*has been sucked into the story*

You're doing a really good job with this. I love it.

PAMS!!

Krysta · 06-01-2008, 06:58 PM

Thank you! Yay, we have page two!

Here's Chapter 9. And on a personal note, I'd like to point out that this was written before Order of The Phoenix and I had never even heard of Dementors...quite a coincidence as you shall discover.

Chapter 9: From The Shadows

On their way out of the common room, Harry and Ginny bumped into Fred coming the other way…literally. They all made a grab for the armful of boxes he carried and helped him stack them up again. He eyed them with the same suspicion as George had done. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ginny butted in first:

“No, we didn’t look in them!” and with that she grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him out of the common room so hard that he nearly tripped over the frame of the painting.

“Oh, steady there. We don’t want you breaking your neck before classes even start.” Cried the fat lady beaming at them. They waved behind them at her as they hurried down the corridor away from the twins.

“Y’know, I’m really curious about what those two are up to, but part of me just kinda…” he trailed off.

“Really doesn’t want to know?” asked Ginny with a dry smile.

“Yeah.” He said returning the grin. They laughed and hurried on down the corridor towards the hospital wing.

Ron was sitting beside Hermione’s bed in a hard plastic chair, holding her hand. He looked up when they came in and smiled. Harry noticed how tired he looked. Worry had taken its toll on him. Ginny looked at Harry and something about the gentle smile told him that she maybe had the same suspicions that Harry had had earlier that day.

“Hey.” Said Ron quietly.

“Hey.” Harry replied also quietly. Ginny moved over to Ron’s side and looked at Hermione’s deathly pale face.

“Any change?” she asked. Ron shook his head slowly. Madame Pomfrey came into the room and sullenly went to the other side of Hermione’s bed. She placed her hand on the sleeping girl’s head and frowned. She took a small silver stick, touched the tip of it to Hermione’s neck. The stick glowed a blue-silver colour and Madame Pomfrey frowned again.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” asked Ron urgently. Madame Pomfrey looked at him as though she’d only just noticed he was there.

“Nothing my boy. She’s a lot better. Stable, sleeping deeply.” She continued to frown.

“But that’s good, surely.” Said Harry sounding as confused as Ron looked.

“Oh yes, dear, of course it is. Sorry. But all my years…I never…in all the strange things I’ve seen…” she trailed off.

“What?” Demanded Ron rising from his seat.

“It’s just that…in all honesty…she should be dead.” Harry and Ginny shot each other shocked and worried glances before moving right up close to Ron and Hermione’s bed.

“What are you talking about? That’s rubbish. She’s going to be fine, Dumbledore said so!” Ron sounded angry and distraught. Madame Pomfrey’s eyes widened.

“He did, did he? “ she looked thoughtful.

“Yes he did. We all heard him. He said she would be perfectly alright.” Fired Harry angrily and panicked, with Ginny nodding furiously beside him.

Madame Pomfrey’s face softened.

“Well, he knows best, I suppose. She does seem to be stable after all. But I’ve never seen the victim of a nightwraith live to tell the tale. Even those in a coma eventually slip away.” She said looking sadly at Hermione and they looked at each other in bewilderment and shock, Harry more so. What were they talking about? What was a ‘nightwraith’? Ron’s eyes were damp when he began to stutter:

“A-a-a-a nightwraith?” The matron nodded slowly and solemnly. “But…but why? Why Hermione?” Madame Pomfrey shook her head sadly. She had no answer.

“What’s going on? What happened to her? What’s a nightwraith?” Ginny looked at him. He could see there were tears in her eyes also and she gently shook her head, her lips moving but not forming words. Harry was frantic by now.
“Someone tell me what the hell is going on!” he shouted at them. Ginny burst into tears and buried her face in the sheets over Hermione’s legs. Harry went to comfort her, placing a hand on her back, and he could feel her sobs through her ribcage. Ron was gripping Hermione’s hand in both of his, holding her fingers to his lips. Harry could see he was unable to speak. He rocked back and forth in his chair, his eyes closed trying to fight sobs welling up in his chest. Harry felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t know what had happened to Hermione, or what would happen, but he knew from his friends’ reaction that it was something so terrible they couldn’t even speak to explain it to him.
He slowly moved to the other side of the bed. The only sound was Ginny’s quiet sobs and Hermione’s steady breathing. He looked at her pale face and the lump in his throat lurched upwards, forcing him to release a moan. He gently touched her cheek the lump now almost gagging him, and he couldn’t breathe. She looked peaceful. No pain. No pain at all. But no life either. Nothing.

In the common room Harry sat alone by the fire staring into the flames and they danced lithely around each other. Ron had stayed with Hermione, refusing to leave her side. Ginny had disappeared to her room still crying and Harry was left by himself.
The other Gryffindors were somewhat sparse as it was after dinner and some were enjoying the long daylight hours outside. It didn’t get dark until 9 o’clock these days, although summer was supposedly on its way out. He enjoyed the solitude. Dinner had been silent and neither he nor Ginny had eaten much. How could they? Their friend was lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and it was quite possible she may never awaken.

But Dumbledore had said she was fine. He’s said so. Harry didn’t understand. And what was a nightwraith? Why were they so terrible? And why was there a cat in the fire, watching him?

He snapped to attention immediately. He almost expected to see Crookshanks sitting in front of it, maybe a trick of the light making it look like he had actually been in the fire. But Crookshanks had been upstairs for the last two days. Lavender and Parvati had said they’d been feeding him, but the loyal feline refused to leave the confines of Hermione’s bed.
He stared into the fire. Nothing. It had been there, he was sure of it. Doubt swept through him. Maybe his daydreaming had played tricks on his subconscious. The fire was just a fire.

He was awake now, anyway. And with an angry, scared and frantic feeling in his stomach he got up from the sofa and marched quickly out of the common room.

Instead of trying out lots of candy-names in attempt to find the password to Dumbledore’s chamber, he merely banged the wall as loud as he could. A few moments later the secret doorway opened for him and he quickly ascended the stairs to the door at the top. He was about to knock on this one, when it opened, apparently by itself and Dumbledore’s voice came floating out of it.

“Come in Harry, take a seat. I was expecting you.” Harry froze for a second or two before cautiously, but purposely walking into the room. He took a seat in one of the armchairs he and Ron had sat in earlier that day and Dumbledore watched him from his place behind the desk.

“I expected you sooner. I think I owe you an explanation.” Professor Dumbledore had taken the words out of his mouth. Harry pursed his lips and nodded. Harry didn’t even need to ask the questions in his mind. Dumbledore started talking, and Harry just sat back and listened.

“Your friend, Harry, will be fine. As Madame Pomfrey has surely told you, she has suffered a truly terrible attack. I did not tell you this last night, as I needed to be sure what we were dealing with, but Madame Pomfrey’s suspicions were accurate, I’m afraid. However, I have every confidence that Miss Granger shall pull through this. In fact, I promise you that she shall.”

Harry relaxed, but more questions formed in his mind. Again, Dumbledore began to answer them before Harry could ask.
“As for what attacked her, and why, I only have a half-answer. Some things, I’m afraid, lie way beyond even my jurisdiction. The creature that attacked her was indeed a nightwraith. No one is really entirely certain what they are. Even the dark wizards and witches that call upon them do not fully understand. Some say they are lost souls corrupted and angry, some say they are servants of a darker evil. Me? I think they’re probably a bit of both. A nightwraith attacks people in their sleep, gets inside their subconscious.
They steal a person’s soul, tearing it from their bodies, leaving them empty shells. Madame Pomfrey I believe has already informed you of…the results. ” The professor fell silent and Harry looked at his hands which were clasped tightly in his lap.
“Now, your friend Harry seems to have defied all of that. Once a nightwraith gets inside you, it doesn’t let go. It clings, fights and tears at the subconscious until it can separate the soul from the body. However, when I visited Miss Granger last night, I could sense that her soul was intact, and this is how I knew she would be fine. Once her body and mind have recovered, she will wake and be as she ever was.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. In the Muggle world, prolonged states of unconsciousness often caused damage to the brain. Dumbledore smiled at him through his spectacles.
“The thing that was concerning me last night, was where on earth did the nightwraith go?” Harry suddenly felt a prickly sensation on the back on his neck. That hadn’t occurred to him. Was it still hanging around? If so, would it attack Hermione again? Or someone else? Dumbledore continued, confirming his fears.
“The problem is, when a nightwraith is called, it is for a particular reason. Usually a particular victim as a target, and they cannot return to their realm until their task in complete.” Harry shuddered. He had begun to feel relieved, but now he felt terrified. Who had released the nightwraith in the first place? And why had it attacked Hermione? Why her? That’s what Ron had asked. He understood their terror now, and shock when hearing that a nightwraith had attacked Hermione. Why would someone want to kill her, and take her soul?

He could understand someone wanting to kill him, namely Voldemort, but not Hermione. He heard Ginny’s words in his head: “the world doesn’t ALWAYS revolve around you!” but he couldn’t think of any other explanation. He swallowed yet another lump in his throat.

“So what now?” he asked hoarsely. Dumbledore smiled sadly.

“Now…you go back to your friends, and you wait by Miss Granger’s side for her to wake up. And then you will look after her. She’ll need her friends around her.” Questions whirled around Harry’s head.

“But how? How did she survive? Why didn’t it…? Why is she still alive?” Dumbledore smiled again.

“Sometimes, Harry, it is better not to question the miracle…but to just let it happen.”

When Harry entered the hospital wing is was dark. Ron had fallen asleep in his chair, his head resting on Hermione’s chest. He smiled, though weakly. He understood, and felt the pain and fear in Ron’s heart now. Ron was terrified that like so many before her, Hermione would never wake from her unconscious state. He understood Ginny’s tears. But he knew something they didn’t now. He knew that within Hermione’s sleeping body, her soul lay safe and unharmed. He knew she would awaken soon. But he knew that the good news came with the bad. The dark creature, which had lost the battle, might still be lurking in the shadows waiting to launch a second attack.
He moved close to her sleeping form and gently kissed her forehead. With that he left as silently as he had come.

He was falling. Urgent, echoing voices surrounded him in a thick velvet blanket smothering him. Falling, deeper, deeper, splash. Cold, viscous water surrounded him, pulling him down, down into their murky depths. Pressure on his head voices louder, urgent, demanding.

“Open your eyes, see.”

“I can’t”

“Open them.”

“No.”

“See her.”

“I’m afraid.”

His own, weak voice argued with the one voice that was so stronger than the others, he couldn’t breathe. Pressure. So heavy. Overbearing.

“See, Harry.”

“No.”

“She needs you Harry.”

“It’s dark.”

“It’s always dark. Open your eyes.”

“No.”

“They need you. See.”

“No.”

“Open you eyes!”

With the final harsh order, Harry opened his eyes. Blackness. All around him nothing but blackness.

A faint light far away was becoming brighter. He was in a dim corridor, the torchlights illuminating the walls in regular intervals. Something moved, something dark. Or was it a shadow? A force surrounded Harry, a familiar force that pushed him to move along the corridor. It must have been a shadow.

“I am the light from which a shadow is cast, that is your soul.”

The voice was mellow, familiar, soothing as it surrounded him, echoing throughout his body. A shadow moved again, slinking smoothly down the corridor towards him. The Blank Panther passed him in the corridor; the force surrounding him made him turn and follow. He went willingly.
The walls were old made of huge stone bricks. The great cat lead him through twists and turns. They were climbing. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Up stairs and around bends they went until the panther suddenly stopped inside a great chamber. Harry felt strange. The force surrounding him disappeared and a new chill spread through him. The chill of magic. It was oozing from the walls, floor and ceiling, from the huge table and 12 chairs around it, from the long tapestries on the walls. It hung in the hair like a faint buzz. It was stronger behind him: from the great slab of rock against the wall. He moved closer. It was neither a table, nor an alter. It hummed with magic as he touched it, sending vibrations through his consciousness. There was strange writing on it. He couldn’t read it. It was strange symbols and markings that looked familiar, but he couldn’t place them.

“Open your eyes.”

“They are open.”

“See.”

“See what?”

“Open your eyes, they need you.”

“Who does?”

“They need you.”

“Who?!”

“Open your eyes!!”

Again, with the final order he found himself once more in darkness. A shadow moved past him. The panther. But, wait. He knew where he was. This was Hogwarts.
He made to follow the panther, along the dark, silent corridors towards the Hospital wing, to Hermione. At the bottom of the stairs to the ward the Panther turned to look at him. He looked into its brilliant yellow eyes and felt himself transfixed. The panther turned and slunk up the stairs and through the door at the top. The door into the room in which Hermione lay sleeping. Harry couldn’t move.

“No!” he shouted, but no sound came from his lungs.

“No, not Hermione! Leave her alone!” he tried screaming again, but nothing came from his mouth.

“You’re asleep.”

“Leave her alone.”

“She’s ok.”

“Stay away from her!”

“She is safe.”

“Wake up, Harry, come and see her.”

“Leave her alone!”

“Wake up, Harry.”

“Hermione!”

“She’s waking, come and see her. Wake up!”

He was thrown from his sleep, quite literally. He landed on the hard stone floor with a bump. Catching his breath he grabbed for his glasses, missing them by a good foot, then scrambled across to the bedside table, finally finding them and placing them on his nose.

Ron wasn’t in his bed, and Harry assumed he must still be with Hermione. No, what if he was hurt too? He grabbed his robe and tore out of the dorm in bare feet, trying to pull on his robe as he ran down the stairs and out of the common room, the fat lady calling after him that he should be in bed.
He ran down the corridors, leaping from a staircase and landing with a thump as it began to change positions on him. He tripped over his feet so many times he bruised his toes. As he turned into the corridor into the hospital wing, a voice boomed after him.

“What are you doing out of bed? Oh it’s you.” A bitter voice called after him. He ignored Filch, pushing past him. Filch cried out after him. “I’m getting a professor!” Harry barely knew he was there. A minute later he burst into the hospital wing out of breath, his wand in his hand ready for battle. He stood gaping in surprise at the sight before him. Utter tranquillity. Ron was silently stroking Hermione’s face whilst she slept peacefully. The vision made Harry feel weak, but warm. He caught his breath.

“Ron?” Ron turned in a start at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Is she…alright?” he asked breathlessly. Harry saw Ron frown in the moonlight. He nodded, and motioned for Harry to move closer, which he did, moving to the opposite side of the bed to Ron, sitting in an identical chair to his.

“I was asleep. I only just woke up. She seems more peaceful somehow. More alive.” Harry looked at her face. He could see what Ron meant. Even in the pale moonlight, there seemed to be a tad more colour in her cheeks. “I was dreaming.” Ron said thoughtfully, and Harry looked up sharply. “There was something in here, and it touched her. Everything was so quiet. So gentle.” Ron’s voice was distant. Harry was worried. He knew enough about dreams now to know that they weren’t necessarily meaningless. Had something been in here? There had been in his dream. But it hadn’t been a dream. He knew it hadn’t.

“I think there was something in here. I had a dream too.” Ron looked thoughtful.

“She’s ok. It might have been Dumbledore checking on her.”

“Maybe.” Said, Harry though he knew that it hadn’t been. What did the Black Panther mean? Was it symbolic? It was familiar. He returned his attention to the sleeping girl in the bed. She did look peaceful, although unlike this afternoon when he had seen nothing in her face, there was a replenished glow.
“She needs someone to hold her hand” Dumbledore had said. He reached over to her pale hand and covered it with his own. It seemed so small engulfed by his larger hand, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. He frowned. It felt strange. He looked more closely and he could see her hand was formed in a tight fist as if gripping something. He turned it over in his hands and sure enough he could see something wrapped tightly in her fist.

“Ron, what’s this?” But Ron wasn’t paying attention. Harry looked up to see Ron staring intently at Hermione’s face.

“Her hand.” He whispered. Harry frowned again.

“What?” but before he even got the word out he knew what Ron meant. Within the warmth of his own hands, he felt her pale little members stir slightly. Harry gasped.

“You feel it? You feel it too?” asked Ron pleadingly. Harry nodded urgently. The both watched her face expectantly, and sure enough, much to their deepest, deepest joy and relief, her eyes fluttered and a tiny whimper escaped her lips. Ron was in tears, despite himself, and Harry was the same.

“Hermione? Hermione can you hear us?” cried Ron, with joy. Another tiny moan came from the almost conscious girl beside them.

“Oh thank god.”

“Knew you could do it, Hermione. Knew you could.” They both gripped her hands as she slowly began to wake up. They were startled to death when a voice boomed out behind them.

“What are you two doing in here, you should be in your dorms.” Snape was towering over them from the doorway, looking menacing as ever. Neither of them could give a damn about him or anybody. Hermione was ok, and they didn’t care what Snape did to them.

“She’s awake. Professor, she’s awake.” Wept Ron, not caring that Snape was seeing him cry.

“Professor, can you please get Madame Pomfrey?” begged Harry, pleadingly. He expected a fierce reply from Snape, but instead Snape’s face seemed to soften, even relax. Harry thought it was the closest Snape’s face could ever get to looking relieved. Snape turned quickly and disappeared the way he came. Harry and Ron returned their attention to Hermione who had opened her eyes and was staring at them both intensely.

“Hi.” She said, and they laughed with happiness and relief. “Oh, I had the most frightful dream!”

Twenty minutes later Hermione was sitting upright with pillows piled behind her for support. Madam Pomfrey was checking her over and happily, although a little surprised, announced her perfectly healthy. Dumbledore had joined them and Snape stood with the headmaster whispering to him. Harry watched as the pair had a hurried and enthusiastic conversation, casting their eyes over the three students every now and then as if to animate a point they were making. Finally they broke apart. To their surprise it was Snape that spoke.

“Miss Granger, I am relieved you are well. I have never…I have seen this happen before. You are a very lucky young lady.” Hermione looked gob-smacked. To everyone’s (except Dumbledore) surprise she was lively, chirpy and wide-awake jabbering away to anyone who would listen despite Madame Pomfrey’s insistence that she kept quiet.

“Oh!” she suddenly cried out.

“What’s wrong my, dear?” asked Professor Dumbledore.

“How did this get here?” she asked holding something up that glinted and shone in the moonlight. Harry started at it in complete and utter astonishment. It was his Mother’s pendant.

They all stared at it in wonder.

“But how?” asked Harry gaping at it. So that had been what was so tightly held in her hand.

“We’ve been looking for that everywhere!” cried out Ron, who quickly shot a look at Snape. To Harry’s surprise they didn’t receive a nasty comment or even a dirty look from him. Instead Snape was staring intently at the pendant, his eyes wide and hard to read. He looked both mesmerised and terrified. He seemed to falter whenever it shone flecks of light on him. He took a step closer to Hermione and breathed deeper.

“Where did you get that, boy?” he breathed. He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t sound menacing in any way. He sounded in awe.

“I-I-it was my Mother’s.” he stammered. Snape’s eyes widened in an emotion Harry couldn’t read.

“Lily? But she…she never…I never knew.” Snape was close to stammering himself.

“Severus. I think I can handle these children now. Thank you for looking after them.” Announced Dumbledore suddenly. Snape faltered again, and looked halfway towards Professor Dumbledore.

“Very good.” He said slowly then turned to leave. Half way to the door he stopped and looked back. “I’m glad you are well, Miss Granger.”

“Thank you Professor.” She answered gently. With that he swept out of the room with Harry and Ron staring after him.

“Well, I believe all is well for now. Maybe we should leave Hermione to rest now, eh?”

Suggested Dumbledore.

“Oh no, Professor!” cried Hermione. “I want to know what’s been going on and what’s wrong with me! They can’t go yet!” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the two boys who looked pleadingly at him.

“Well, keep it calm, ok. I have business to attend to, I shall leave you in their capable hands then Miss Granger.” With that he smiled and left the room. They waited for him to leave earshot and then Hermione turned to her friends.

“Right, I want to know everything.” They looked at each other. They didn’t know where to begin, and so they started from the beginning. Between them the told her about how she had woken them up screaming and had been taken to hospital. Harry told her of Dumbledore’s confidence in her survival, and how Madame Pomfrey hadn’t seemed so sure.
They told her about the nightwraith, causing her to gasp in terror, and how Dumbledore had told Harry that it might still be hanging around, at which Ron’s face went a sickly grey. Harry told her about Dumbledore’s words to him about Snape: that love and hate were closely related and how one could lead to another. She listened with interest, agreeing with Harry that he was trying to tell them something.

They talked nearly all night. They told her how Hagrid had let it slip that the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher was a witch, and how they had fought with Crabbe and Goyle over the missing pendant, ending up in the headmaster’s office, and a loss of 50 points for their trouble. Hermione had scalded them over this, but had felt bad because the pendant had turned up in her hand.

“But how did I get it?” she asked. Harry shrugged.

“Must have been Dumbledore.” Said Ron, and received confused looks. “Well he didn’t seem too worried when we told him it was missing, did he?” Harry had to admit he hadn’t. Then Harry remembered something Dumbledore had said.

“He said Hermione needed someone to hold her hand, remember Ron? I think he put the pendant in her hand and he was trying to give us a hint. He wanted us to find it.” Hermione looked thoughtful again.

“So he took it from the table in the common room, without anyone seeing him? Everyone was awake that night, you said. Someone would have seen him, and told you.” Harry frowned. She was right…again.

“But he knew it was there in your hand. He must have done it.”

“Ok.” Began Hermione “Say he did put the pendant in my hand…but why?” The all looked at each other and then at the pendant, which she held aloft. Ron shrugged.

“There’s something about it. Neville’s sure he’s seen it before, and did you see Snape’s reaction when he saw it? And when he found out it was your Mother’s…” Ron trailed off. Harry was confused.

“There’s got to be something special about it. Snape knew what it was, Dumbledore definitely knew.” Said Harry. Ron and Hermione nodded.

“You should keep it safe, Harry.” Said Hermione holding it out to him, but he shook his head.

“No, Hermione, you keep it. Dumbledore gave it to you for a reason. I think you should hold on to it for a while.” Ron nodded and took it from Hermione’s hand. He un-did the clasp and Hermione leaned forward for him to place it around her neck. He did up the clasp and smiled as it swung down across her breastbone, glinting in the moonlight.

“See, looks like it belongs there.” Ron smiled at her and she grinned back. Harry glanced at his new watch the Weasleys had given him and saw to his surprise that it was approaching 4 o’clock and the first hint of bluer light was just visible through the window.

“Good job its Saturday tomorrow.” He said, stifling a yawn.

“Well, I guess I should at least some sleep.” Said Ron. Harry realised that Ron hadn’t been to bed at all for the last 48 hours. He’d stayed with Hermione both nights. Hermione smiled and the both kissed each of her cheeks before leaving. Harry noticed Ron’s kiss lingered a good second longer than his had, and he smiled briefly. Hermione settled back down to sleep and Harry and Ron quietly slipped out of the ward. They were both relaxed. Harry was even able to push the idea of the nightwraith loose somewhere out of his mind. So when he suddenly stopped dead next to an open corridor window, gripping Ron’s arm tightly, Ron let out a cry of surprise.

“What is it?” he asked angrily. Harry held out a shaky finger towards the grounds visible through the window and Ron looked where he was pointing. His eyes widened. A black figure was slinking across the dewy grass towards the dark forest: the figure of a large Black Panther.

Krysta · 06-10-2008, 11:30 AM

Chapter 10: The Girl Who Lived (part 1)

They had never seen her eat so much. Harry, Ron, Ginny and a giggling Fred and George stared open-mouthed as she shovelled a pile of maple-syrup pancakes into her mouth, followed by a plate of sausages and bacon, three glasses of orange juice and a bowl of cornflakes.

She had argued profusely with Madame Pomfrey that morning who had tried to insist that she stayed in bed for the day. But Hermione walked tall and strong into the Great Hall at 8:15 much to the astonishment and delight of her friends. Whispers followed her all the way to her seat and when she sat down, heads turned and the whispering turned to a low murmur that spread through out the enormous room. She ignored them and immediately began helping herself to food, accompanied by claps on the back from the closest Gryffindor students. There was even a level of buzz from the teacher’s table that morning as they all glanced in her direction and whispered amongst themselves. Snape was the only one not whispering. He simply watched their section of the Gryffindor table with interest. Not the usual vehemence and contempt, but with a strange expression of contemplation. He caught Harry’s eye and held the gaze until Harry looked away, uncomfortable with the man’s strange, almost nice, behaviour of late. Seeing the pendant, now around Hermione’s neck, had shaken him up, that much was evident. But why? It meant something to him, something terrible or tragic. He had been completely overwhelmed last night.

Harry’s attention was pulled away by a giggling Ginny who was doing well for breakfast herself. She’d managed to put away the same number of pancakes as Hermione and even managed some cereal. He turned to see what she was laughing at to see Hermione with a plastered face, and Ron trying to help her clean it with a napkin. The twins were in fits and the sight of the usually pristine Hermione covered in traces of her breakfast was so funny he joined in the laughter and all thoughts of Snape were pushed from his mind. They were all laughing now, including Hermione, and laughing so hard that some of the whispering students around them turned to watch in surprise. I felt good to laugh. Harry could feel the tension that had built up over the last couple of days begin to ebb away.

Hermione was famous. And not just in Gryffindor, indeed, not just in Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Oh no. When the Owl Post arrived that morning, they were in for a surprise. A large brown owl dropped a heavy edition of the Daily Prophet into Ron’s plate and they stared at it in surprise, because as they unrolled it and spread it out on the table so they could all read, Hermione gaped in shock, and Ron said a simple, characteristic:

“Cool.” The headline shouted out at them in large-bold letter:

Extra! Exrtra! Girl Survives Nightwraith Attack

They stared at in wonder, Hermione leaning closer to read the article.

Hermione Granger, 5th year student at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry made history last night by surviving a violent attack by a legendary Nightwraith. This is only the 5th known attack by one of these deadly, and dark creatures reported in Great Britain in the last 500 years and no record of survival has ever been made.

Miss Granger is a close friend of the also legendary Harry Potter and of the youngest son of Arthur Weasley of the Ministry of Magic.

The reason for the attack on Miss Granger is yet unknown and the Headmaster Of Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore was unavailable for comment this morning.

However her links with the famous Mister Potter have prompted us down here at The Prophet to nickname her, quite appropriately, “The Girl Who Lived.”

Hermione snorted at that last comment, but the others were laughing at it, especially Harry. Ron however looked a little put out. Harry didn’t know why, he had been mentioned in the report after all. The level of whispering in the Great Hall had risen so dramatically, it was difficult to hear each other speak.

“That’s so silly.” Hermione retorted, throwing the parchment across the table, where it was caught by Ginny who continued to read the rest of the three-page article.

“Not really, Hermione. No one has ever survived an attack like that before.” Fred explained.

“It’s really quite a big deal. Nightwraiths are feared the world over.” Added George. Hermione folded her arms across her chest and looked defiant.

“But calling me that, it’s pathetic.” She scoffed.

“Ah, c’mon, you’re loving every second.” Said Ron, with a mild grin. She rounded on him.

“That’s not true, Ron! And if you knew me, you’d know that having my name in the paper just because I got lucky, is not my idea of fun.” She barked at him, and Harry noticed the hurt in his face and the way his shoulders hunched over at her words.

“I’d hardly say it was luck.” Called Angelina, who had been listening from three places up the table. “I’ve read about those creatures. They’re of the darkest magic, and very powerful. Something extremely powerful saved you the other night.” She smiled at Hermione who was beginning to realise just how big a deal this was, and looked uncertainly at her friends.

“What else does the article say?” Ron asked Ginny, who looked up and shrugged.

“Not much. Talks about what an excellent student Hermione is, but how she survived is still a mystery… bla bla bla.” Ginny rolled up the parchment and tucked it into her robes.

“Good job Rita Skeeter didn’t get hold of this story.” Said Harry and Hermione snorted again.

“Well, she has to be a good girl if she knows what’s good for her.” Said Hermione with a sly grin.

“Hang on a minute. You haven’t still got her in that jar, have you?” asked Ron suspiciously and Harry sniggered. Hermione had shut Rita Skeeter the tabloid journalist in a glass jar to teach her a lesson. Hermione had discovered that she had been spying on people illegally to get a good story and that she was an illegal animagus in the form of a beetle. Hermione had trapped her in her beetle form and threatened to reveal her secret if she didn’t agree to only write the truth for at least a year.

“Of course not. She’s just…taking a little break from writing for a while.” She grinned back slyly at them, and they giggled.

Back in the common room, they crowded into the sofas around the fire once more and talked. Between them they told Fred and George about the events of the last two days and filled Ginny in on bits she’d missed. Harry thought about telling them about his dreams. Seeing the Black Panther in the grounds had jogged his memory: the village on the ceiling. Sirius, and a Black Panther. He hadn’t told Ron yet. He hadn’t told him about the dream he’d had last night either: the one that had led him to Hermione’s side in the first place. The dark, stone corridors and the room that had hummed with magic: the great stone slab with strange, unfamiliar writing. He didn’t want to tell them here, not with Fred and George listening. He’d wait until he could get Ron and Hermione alone.

Around 2 o’clock the three of them left the common room to visit Hagrid. It had been Hermione’s idea. She hadn’t spoken to him since the day they arrived, and even then she’d been rather anti-social.

Eyes and whispering followed them all the way through the castle and across the grounds to Hagrid’s hut. The news of Hermione’s miraculous recovery seemed to have reached every corner of the school and even the first years were staring in awe of her.

Hagrid swept her into his arms and cried all over her the moment he opened the door. She was practically gasping for air by the time he put her down. She stumbled to a chair and sat down looking dazed. Soon the four of them were holding cups of tea and pretending to nibble Hagrid’s rock cakes. Hagrid listened intently to their stories of the last day. He scalded them over the business with Crabbe and Goyle but Harry couldn’t help but notice the sly glint in his eye showing he actually found it quite funny. When Hagrid was up to speed and pouring out more tea for them all, Harry cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Listen there’s some stuff I’ve been meaning to tell you guys.”

They all turned to listen. Harry launched into the full story. The village on the ceiling, the red sphere in the Arinella, the dream he had last night and the panther he’d seen crossing the school grounds.

“I saw it too.” Added Ron, when Hagrid raised a questioning eyebrow.

“So…does it mean anything to anyone?” Hermione shook a confused head and Hagrid shrugged.

“I’d love to know what that room was, the one in your dream. I wonder what the writing was, could you draw any for us?” asked Hermione. Harry shook his head and Hermione looked disappointed.

“You said they were symbols?” asked Hermione and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, but I didn’t recognise them.”

“Well, were they sort of eastern like Chinese or Japanese, or more like hieroglyphics?” Harry shrugged.

“I really don’t know. I don’t think they were Eastern. It would have looked familiar. And I don’t think it was Egyptian either.” He said thinking back to an old primary school project about the ‘Valley Of The Kings’.

“Try to describe it.” Hermione prodded. He thought hard.

“They were like sticks. Arranged in patterns.” He finally concluded. Hermione seemed to be thinking because she squinted, which was a particular trait when her brain was hard at work.

“Well, it sounds like it could have been runic. How you described the room doesn’t fit though. Runes haven’t been used for centuries, the Vikings used them, and the room you described sounded from the last thousand years.” Harry frowned and Ron raised his eyebrows.

“What about this panther then? We know that’s real, even if it did appear in Harry’s dream.” Said Ron and Harry looked at Hagrid.

“You know anything about a Black Panther, Hagrid?”

“Me? Oh I don’t know much about anythin’.” he answered awkwardly and the others watched him suspiciously. “Oh, blimey is that the time? I got lesson plans ter be doing.” He babbled, changing the subject. He scrabbled a load of sticks into a pile and threw them into a basket.

“What have we got in store for us this year?” asked Hermione, a little scared of what the answer might be. Hagrid chortled to himself.

“Well, you’re jus’ gonna have te wait an’ see.” He grinned and they looked at each other with nervous apprehension. The got up to leave Hagrid to his apparent work, but Harry stopped partway through the door.

“Hagrid, you were around when my parents were at school. I know the story about the practical joke played on Professor Snape. But my Father had nothing to do with it. Why does Snape hate him so much?” he asked watching Hagrid’s face for a reaction. Hagrid’s eyes narrowed and then softened.

“Well, ‘arry. I suppose jealousy played its part. Snape was a very proud man. He hated to be bettered. Hated to come second to anything or anyone. And when it comes to love…” he paused in thought “…I guess love just makes us do crazy things.” He said quietly. Harry was only half surprised by the answer.

“That’s what Professor Dumbledore told me.” He said slowly. Hagrid’s face softened again and he smiled briefly.

“Wise man is Dumbledore. A wise man, indeed.”

“Why won’t he tell us what’s going on?” said Ron crossly. Harry looked angry too.

“It’s extremely frustrating.” Agreed Hermione, scowling. They were in the library. Hermione had several large and old books out and was making Harry look through them to see if he recognised any of the old scriptures as the writing in his dream. One by one, Harry shook his head, but Hermione was on a mission and kept disappearing to return with yet another ancient book. He was just shaking his head again when she disappeared off again, coming back with an old and very thick book bound in burgundy leather that despite its age was still tough and soft.

“Try this one.” She said excitedly dropping the huge book down on the table with a deafening thump that echoed around the library. Madam Pince gave them a warning look and Hermione mouthed an apologetic ‘sorry’ to her. The grouchy little woman scowled and went about her business. Harry grinned at Ron who sniggered silently and he carefully opened the huge leather-bound book. The pages were of ancient, thick and yellowed parchment, which had gone almost rigid with age. Harry was extremely careful when turning the pages for fear of snapping one. He ignored the publisher’s page. If he had taken any notice, he’d have seen that it was entirely handwritten and that there wasn’t actually a publisher so much as a list of contributories. He turned straight to the title Page: Crimporius de Argunia: Accrina Sortium das Runes
Harry looked Blankly at Hermione who rolled her eyes in dismay.

“It’s an ancient book about Runic scripture.” She told him in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah obviously.” He said looking at Ron who was rolling his eyes. Harry flipped a few pages over to find paragraphs and paragraphs of ancient writing in a language that wasn’t English, French, Italian, Latin or any other he recognised.

“It’s Aguilian, if you’re wondering.” Hermione announced in her authoritive manner. Harry and Ron looked at in complete ignorance and she made a ‘tutting’ noise to signify her disgust at their lack of knowledge on the subject.

“Well you read it then.” Said Harry in annoyance at being made to feel stupid again. Hermione flushed and looked annoyed herself.

“I can’t.” she said in a low voice. Ron’s face lit up in a mighty grin.

“You can’t read it Hermione?” he asked with a smirk on his face.

“Well where was I supposed to learn it? They don’t exactly teach it in primary school you know!” she retorted again, receiving another scowl from Madam Pince.

“What’s Primary school?” asked Ron.

“Muggle School for under 11’s.” Harry told him, a slight grin on his face.

“Ok, so what do we do?” Ron said trying to stop grinning. Hermione was looking particularly cheesed off. Only a few hours ago she had been lying in a hospital bed barely clinging on to life, and it hurt that it hadn’t taken them long to start teasing her again. Ron seemed to have caught on to this and put his arm around her.

“Sorry Herm, old girl. We’re just so glad to have you back. We’d be lost without you around. Especially when it comes to something like this. We wouldn’t know where to start.” He smiled at her gently and eventually she smiled back.

“Yeah, we’re just jealous, that’s all.” Added Harry, catching on.

“Ok…I’ll, erm, go see if the got one in English.” They waited for her to go out of earshot before speaking.

“Wouldn’t it have made sense to look for an English one in the first place?” asked Harry. Ron grinned. A couple of minutes later she returned carrying a much smaller black leather bound book with silver writing on the spine and front cover:

The Complete Runic Works and Scripture: A language defined and understood.

Harry was much happier with this one. The pages were fresh and easy to turn, and the writing was clear and easy to read. The runic alphabet and symbols were displayed at the beginning of the very first chapter, and as soon as Harry saw it, he pointed to the page in earnest.

“That’s it.” He said confidently. “That’s the writing on the stone.” Hermione beamed in triumph and Ron looked closely at the marking in the book.

“Looks like just a bunch of lines to me.” He said.

“Well, Ron, you’re right. That’s exactly what they are.” Grinned Hermione. Ron raised his eyes in surprise. Hermione saying he was right about something academic was a rarity.

“Cool. So what letter corresponds to which group of lines?” he asked trying to sound all interested.

“Well it doesn’t work that way. Each symbol has a special meaning or represents something in life. For example this one refers to the Human race as a whole, or an individual person.” She told them pointing to the first symbol. The thing with Runes, is that each one can have a number of meanings or definitions, and how it’s translated has to be taken into account with the other runes its placed with. See here…” she flipped through the pages. “…The book explains what each symbol means and how it can be interpreted in different ways. And if you turn these 21 symbols upside down, they have more meanings still. If you turn the symbol for Joy, meaning fruitful and without sorrow, upside down it changes it’s meaning to a hard time and slow growth.”

“No wonder they stopped using them, it’s far too complicated. “ said Ron staring at the symbols on the pages before them.

“You can tell a fuller story with fewer characters.” Hermione added and Harry looked at the pages with interest. “The question is, what was it you saw in your dream?” Harry shrugged apologetically.

“I really couldn’t tell you. It was a dream, y’know.” Hermione looked disappointed but nodded in understanding.

Harry was just turning back to the runic symbols to see whether he recognised any of them when an excited voice called out from behind him.

“Harry! I’ve been looking for you everywhere…well since this afternoon anyway, you’ll never guess what!” They all turned in surprise to see Sharon Casey approaching them, her hair flying all over the place. She took a seat next to Harry immediately and a bemused Ron moved some books out of the way for her. Hermione however looked a little Peeved to say the least.

“Hi, Sharon. How are you finding Hogwarts?” she beamed at him and he grinned back. It was so good to see her again, and she looked so much bigger than he remembered her. She’d only been 6 when he last saw her, and scared of everything that moved, thanks to her bully of a brother. Now she was a confident and outgoing eleven year old, with a pretty little round face.

“Oh I haven’t seen much of it, I’m afraid. I’ve been taking tests!” The all gaped at her.

“What? Why? You’re a first year and classes haven’t even started yet!” cried Hermione and received yet another piercing look from Madam Pince.

“Hey you’re Hermione Granger!” cried Sharon in delight a huge excited smile spreading across her already pink cheeks. “This is so cool!” By now Madam Pince had had enough and came striding over to their table.

“Right, you lot, OUT!” they knew better than to argue so they gathered their things, left the books on the sorting trolley and escorted a still excited Sharon out of the library.

Krysta · 06-10-2008, 11:31 AM

Chapter 10: Part 2

The afternoon was still pleasant and warm so they went outside and lounged on the grass by the lake.

“So what was it like? Surviving a Nightwraith! Wow!” Sharon was still excited and Hermione looked a little uncomfortable, but Harry couldn‘t help but get the feeling that Hermione was indeed enjoying this.

“Well I don’t really remember much…” began Hermione, but was cut off by Sharon.

“Wow, really? Of course you were asleep having your soul wrenched from you, so I guess it can’t be easy to remember.” She giggled and looked at Hermione in awe. “You must be a really great witch then. Of course I’ve seen your record and stuff, you’re like the best witch in your year!” she cried. Hermione was blushing now and Ron looked a little miserable. Harry watched him with concern. What could be bothering him?

“Well, you know, I work hard.” Hermione said, trying to be modest.

“Of course you do, you’re committed!” Sharon told her, beaming. Harry smiled to him self with relief when Hermione returned the smile with sincerity, and he could tell that the reservations she had had about Sharon were past. Ron however was looking more miserable by the second.

“Sharon, how do you know about Nightwraiths? Did one of the other students tell you?” asked Harry, realising that the whole world of magic didn’t seem to be totally foreign to Sharon, and he began wondering exactly what she’d been doing for the last two years.

“Oh no, my aunt told me about them years ago!” she replied as if it had been a silly question. Harry stared at her in surprise.

“Sharon, exactly how long have you known that you’re a witch?” he asked suspiciously.

“All my life of course.” She answered laughing. Harry was gob-smacked. “You should see your face, Harry.” She said, laughing again.

“But we were friends for years!” he exclaimed.

“I know! I was so frustrating, not being to tell you who you were, you being so famous an’ all. And I couldn’t tell anyone that I knew you or where you were or anything. My Aunt ordered it the moment she discovered I knew you. She looks after me.” She told them all. “My Mother died when me and Stephen were born. My Dad looked after us when we were kids, but I spent most of the time with my Aunt in Romania. She knows Dumbledore you know, which is why I was taking these tests.” She told them all.

“My brother works in Romania.” Said Ron, but was drowned out by Hermione.

“Oh yes, tell us about these tests.” Said an intrigued Hermione. Ron looked over across the lake and remained quiet. There was obviously something really wrong with him, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what it was.

“Ooh, it’s so cool! I’m a second year now!” cried Sharon, so excited she was bobbing up and down in her cross-legged sitting position. They all, including Ron, stared at her.

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry, utterly confused.

“I’ve just taken some first year exams and passed them, and I’ve been moved up into the second year.” She laughed at all their astounded faces.

“B-b-b-b…” was all Harry managed, and the girl giggled again.

“You see, because I finished primary school two years early and couldn’t go straight to Hogwarts, I went back to Romania with my aunt. Like I said, she knows Dumbledore and they did a deal. He said that if my aunt taught me at home for two years, then I could try out the first year exams and move up into the second year, instead of starting the first.” They all watched with awe. “My aunt wanted me to go into the 3rd year, but Professor Dumbledore said no, that I should stay with kids more my own age. So here I am.”

She finished and looked around for a response. She got none. They were all doing a very good impression of having been ‘petrified’. Finally Hermione managed to speak.

“I can’t believe the Ministry allowed that. A witch to be trained out of school.” She said.

“Oh it’s not that uncommon. My Aunt was like me, apparently. She was even smarter! She started in the 2nd year too. My Grandmother taught her from home. And as for the Ministry, it’s really Dumbledore’s decision.” She explained to them.

“Wow. Your aunt must be an amazing witch.” Commented Harry.

“Oh she is. She’s incredible. She doesn’t even need a wand!” answered the girl, a distinct tone of pride in her voice.

“Dumbledore’s like that.” Announced Hermione.

“Cool. He’s just the most incredible wizard in the world, though!” said Sharon and they all had to nod in agreement to that, even Ron. He had remained silent throughout the entire conversation. Hermione and Sharon had started chatting away about life at Hogwarts, and Hermione was telling her about the second year and what sort of thing she’d be doing. Harry was delighted to see that Hermione had taken very much to Sharon. He was worried that the proud girl might be a bit jealous of the genius Sharon. Sharon was just reassuring Hermione that she must still be a wonderful witch to have achieved what she had in the past 5 years.

“Books alone cannot make you a gifted spell-caster – it was something that was inside you. Someone could study everyday and practise over and over and not manage to turn a teapot into a quaffle, just because they don’t have the gift. But you, Hermione…” the conversation went more or less like that, Harry left them to it. He was more worried about Ron. In a low voice he asked him what was up. Ron shrugged and turned away.

“C’mon, mate, what’s up?” he asked again. Ron let out a deep but quiet sigh.

“I just feel like I’m…so…ordinary.” He finally answered, keeping his voice low enough for the girls not to hear. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “I mean, your little friend there is brain of Britain, Hermione’s the “Girl who lived”…” he said making inverted comma signs with his fingers “…and you, well, you’re Harry Potter.” He concluded and looked at the ground, sorry for himself. “And me? I just average old Ron Weasley, the famous person’s sidekick.” He muttered. Harry didn’t know what to say. Ron was so wrong, but he didn’t know how to tell him. Ron was no less special than Harry. He’d gone through nearly all the same things Harry had, got pretty much the same test scores and the only real difference was that people knew Harry’s name. But Harry didn’t know how to tell him that. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Did you say you’re Ron Weasley?” asked a wide-eyed Sharon.

“Er, yeah.” He answered, a little surprised. Sharon gasped.

“Cool!” she exclaimed and the others looked at her in surprise, especially Ron. “You’re like my hero!” she cried and everyone stared at her. Ron was utterly speechless.

“Ay?” was all he could manage.

“You’re the chess guy! You’re so cool! You’re like the best chess player in the world! You must be to have beaten one of Professor McGonagall’s spells. My aunt told me all about it. Gosh, you must be so brave. I heard you sacrificed yourself to win the game! Is that true?” asked an eager Sharon, her eyes dancing with excitement.

“Well er…” began a nervous and taken-aback Ron. Hermione spoke up for him.

“You bet he did! He was so brave. It was the only way Harry and I could get through to the next chamber and search for the Sorcerer’s stone. He was so brave.” Ron had gone so red now and Harry noticed he and Hermione had caught each other’s eye. He was smiling gently at him. His face relaxed and the tension went out of him. “Oh yeah, definitely something going on.” Harry thought to himself, smiling slightly. Ron had cheered up considerably, and they spent the hour around dusk telling Sharon all about everything that had happened over the last two months and she listened with avid interest. She nodded and gasped when she heard about the Knight Bus and the strange letters, and fascinated with the pendant, which Hermione showed her, as it was still around her neck. She was transfixed by it. Hermione took it off to show her, and Sharon held it up gazing at it intently as it glistened in the evening sun. It was the quietest she’d been all afternoon.

They told her all about Malfoy, what he was like and how he’d disappeared. She’d seemed thoughtful about that, but didn’t make any comment. Then the bit she was most excited about, the terrible events of two nights ago when the Nightwraith had attacked Hermione. Ron, yet again seemed slightly on edge, and watched Hermione very closely all through the retelling of the story as though scared she might still collapse right there in front of him. Harry had been telling the story and when he came to the part about the dreams and the panther a strange look came on Sharon’s face that Harry couldn’t read. And when he told her that he and Ron had seen the panther in these very grounds they now sat in, she looked positively shocked.

“Don’t worry. Dumbledore isn’t going to let a nasty great big cat hurt anyone inside Hogwarts.” Hermione assured her, and Sharon smiled weakly. Harry finished the story with how she had awoken and how everyone was now calling her “The Girl Who Lived.”, and they all laughed a little.

“But honestly, I don’t know what the big deal is.” Announced Hermione, and Ron looked sharply at her. Harry thought he looked angry, but that couldn’t be right, surely. “I mean, ok, I was unconscious and all, but I was fine. I’m just glad I woke up before lessons started!” she finished, as if that would be far more terrible than not waking up at all. To Harry’s and everyone else’s surprise, Ron suddenly got hastily to his feet. He looked livid.

“You don’t get it do you? You just don’t get it. How can you be so selfish!” he cried angrily at Hermione who just stared at him completely shocked. “We thought you were dying! I held you in my arms and I thought you were dying! I thought that it was the end, that I’d never see you again. But you don’t think do you? Not about us, not what we were going through. It’s always the same, you and your…your bloody academic record!” with that he turned on his heel and stormed across the field towards the castle, not one looking back. Harry thought about following him, but didn’t know what he’d say if he caught up with him. He turned to Hermione who was looking at the daisy-covered grass nervously, fighting back a lump in her throat. Sharon looked bewildered. Harry couldn’t speak, though he knew what he wanted to say. Sharon said it for him.

“Boy! He really likes you!”

Ron wasn’t at dinner when they went in at 7 o’clock, and he didn’t come down during the meal. Hermione and Harry sat silently, Hermione miserably eating her way through her meal, Harry hardly eating at all. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry, or even that he was upset and couldn’t eat. He was just so lost in thought that he didn’t get around to eating.

Ginny watched them both curiously while Fred and George were too busy whispering with Lee Jordan to notice.

Harry didn’t really know what to do and Hermione obviously didn’t want to talk about it. She kept her head down and avoided eye contact throughout the meal and Harry left her to it. She was in a difficult position. He wanted to ask her how she felt. He wanted to tell her what Ron had been like when she had been unconscious. Waiting up all hours, hardly leaving her side, frantic with worry and unable to eat. But he felt as though if he did, he would somehow be betraying a kind of trust to Ron. It was a man thing. You just didn’t talk about those things. They were private. Harry had noticed for himself that he could only talk about those kinds of thing with Hermione, and more recently, Ginny. They were things you could say to a girl, but not with another bloke, because Harry had come to notice that as well as good talkers girls could be good listeners too. Harry could talk to Ron about almost anything: his secrets, about Voldemort, about Sirius, almost anything private. But things like this? No. He could never really talk to Ron about his feelings for Cho, and what worried him more recently: his new growing feelings for Ginny. He’d tried to ignore them and pretend they weren’t there, or that maybe one some deeper level, some kind of guilty feelings about the way he ignored her for so long before noticing she’d grown up. But last night when she’d been holding the Arinella, the tiny red sphere battering against the sides of the crystal at her, he had realised it. His best friend’s little sister or not, he was falling for her. Slowly, though he had to admit, it was there all the same, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He couldn’t tell Ron. He had his own problems with love and besides, Ginny wasn’t just some girl, she was his little sister. That made a difference. He was stuck. Completely stuck. He let his mind go else where and realised that the situation between Hermione and Ron was a far more pressing subject in the here and now.

His thoughts were cut short when people started leaving the Great Hall and he was one of the only few left. He hadn’t even noticed Hermione leave the table so when she tapped him on the shoulder he jumped and turned to see Sharon had joined her.

“We’re going to the library.” Hermione announced.

“We wondered if that Pendant of your Mothers might be famous or something. Everyone but us seems to recognise it, so it might be in a book or something.” Added Sharon a little more brightly than Hermione. Hermione was still avoiding eye contact, and Harry felt a little hurt. It wasn’t like he had yelled at her.

“You coming with us?” asked Hermione, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a defiant manner. Harry shook his head.

“I’m gonna…go check something else out.” He said, not wanting to say that he was going to go and find Ron.

Ten minutes later Harry gave the password and entered the common room. It was practically seething with life. He had almost forgotten that classes started tomorrow, and everyone had gathered to chat and discuss their timetables. Timetables! Harry had forgotten to get his. He was just beginning to panic when a voice spoke behind him.

“I thought perhaps you guys would have forgotten to pick these up, what with everything that’s happened.” Harry turned to see Neville holding out two sheets of white paper, a faint smile on his face. Harry took the timetables from him.

“Oh, thanks Neville, you’re a life-saver!” Harry was extremely relieved. He really hadn’t fancied facing McGonagall right now.

“No problem.” Harry was about to turn and leave. “Er, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m, er, glad Hermione’s ok. She…she was always kind to me.” Harry smiled and Neville returned it.

“By the way, have you seen Ron?” Harry asked. Neville looked thoughtful.

“Well he isn’t in the dorm.”

“You looking for our darling brother?” came a new voice, Harry turned to see Fred and George sitting at a desk with Angelina and Alicia. The girls waved with a friendly smile and he waved back.

“I saw Ron heading outdoors. God knows why, it’ll be dark soon.” Said Alicia, brightly. Harry thanked her and left the common room.

In the huge lobby, he crossed from the corridor and approached the huge oak doors, lost in thought.

“Where are you going?” It was Filch, grouchy as ever with Mrs. Norris circling his feet.

Harry wasn’t in the mood for this, and besides, he was a 5th year and it was none of Filch’s business where he was going.

“Outside. What’s it to you?” he answered gruffly. Filch looked shocked for a second before the anger set in.

“You watch your lip, lad. You think you’re untouchable, that’s your problem. Going outside, you say? If I were Dumbledore I’d be putting curfews up for everyone, even the famous Mr. Potter. Dangerous times, lad, and one of these days, he’ll catch up with you. Mark my words, ‘e’ will.” Harry snorted, and tuned to leave. “Think you’re invincible do you? There were more than you that thought so, and they’s dead, lad.” Harry had had enough and the anger was getting out of control.

“If I wanted advice, I’d ask someone who knows what they’re talking about, not some grubby Squib, like you.” He hissed back and marched out of the door. Filch must have been shocked into silence, because no bellows of fury and pounding feet followed him, just an eerie silence. Harry sped up and hurried around the corner in case he got over the state of shock and decided to follow.

The great Hogwarts grounds stretched out towards the forest to his right, the great lake behind him on the other side of the castle. Hagrid’s hut was just visible at the edge of the forest, the smoke as ever puffing out of the tiny chimney. Harry could just see a faint light glowing within the cabin, which in the summer dusk looked warm and cosy. The sky had painted itself in hazy strips of peach and purple clouds against the fading blue sky. Far away across the across the lake, the horizon sky was already a deep indigo dotted with two or three faint stars. The huge lawn glowed a dull gold, which contrasted with the early evening shadows giving the place an eerie atmosphere much like a partial eclipse gives the day. Birds had stopped singing and as one flew high in the air above his head, Harry looked up to watch it soar across the ever-changing sky. It was a bird of prey, a small one, not the like the Eagles they occasionally saw flying through the highlands. The bird swooped lower then hovered perfectly in one place it’s wings fluttering at tremendous speed. He watched it in wonder as it hung in mid-air then suddenly swooped in an instant to the ground. Almost as quickly as it had dove, it climbed back into the sky again soaring high. It flew above the castle circling one of the towers. And then to

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