Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way.
Author's Note: since I will be updating Vocare Prabia every Friday, every once in a while I'll be writing some short blurbs that will not appear in the story itself. Instead, think of these as spin-offs of the Vocare Prabia story line – the "what wasn't mentioned" part of the story. Updates may be reported in my livejournal so look for them!
Title: Ron Finds Out
Double Potions was a real killer. Ron Weasley was currently recuperating from his eternity with Snape by reading one of the Quiditch magazines one of the younger Gryffindors had left in the common room. With his long legs extended over the armchair closest to the fireplace and his head tilted at just the right angle to rest against the back of the chair, Ron thought he deserved this little piece of heaven. After the hell he'd gone through.
Admittedly, Harry'd had a much rougher experience with Snape. The old bastard couldn't help but rub it all in – Sirius, all the recent deaths of Muggles with an express calling card by The Dark Lord, everything. Not to mention the hasty news Remus had sent them along that he would have to go into hiding soon because some of the Dark Lord's assassins were closing in on his location outside of Hogwarts. Harry took it all to heart, as if it was his fault.
Ron paused, his eyes not seeing the moving photograph of the new commissioners in charge of the next World Cup (the old ones had been overcharging for certain seats and for the concession foods by using illegal potions to make Quiditch-waters "magically" thirstier). Instead of the article, Ron thought back to the conversation he'd had with Harry. Hermione'd nearly driven him mad by worrying all the time, insisting that he needed to relax. Ron felt the same way Hermione did and he knew very well that his best mate was going through a rough time, but he saw the frustration in Harry's eyes. He saw it and ignored it, pushing the issue.
That was why he was in the common room alone instead of with Harry right next to him, either studying or talking about Quiditch (instead of Ron just reading about it). The difference felt painful but Ron mentally argued that it was good for Harry to stew a little. At least this way, he had a target for all of his pent-up aggression and sadness. He always internalized that anger and Ron knew that wasn't good (how many times had he spoken in anger only to regret his words?) so sometimes, he and Hermione pushed Harry. Most of the time the act was unconscious, but Ron was thinking about it then.
The past few months had been intensely difficult. He and Hermione had banded together somewhat against Harry. Hermione tended to take her mothering overboard and Ron couldn't help the infectious need to check up on his best mate. Contrary to what Harry thought, he wasn't alone. Both Ron and Hermione felt intensely responsible for Sirius's death just as much as their friend. Hermione knew what it had meant to Harry, to have Sirius around. Without him, Harry seemed almost to have become fragile, like a piece of glass teetering on the edge of a ravine. Ron couldn't see the bottom of the ravine, but he knew what would happen when Harry fell off.
Ron shuddered, thinking of the hateful look Harry had taken to wearing. He'd become confused recently, torn between avoiding his friends and staying as close to them as possible. Hermione only pushed the issue by continuously hammering Harry about his reckless behavior and insisting that Ron go with him everywhere, even to the bathroom! Through it all, Harry endured with anger in his eyes and betrayal in his thoughts. Ron hated it more than spiders.
'I hate when he's mad at me,' Ron reflected. 'But it's good for him to be a little mad. He's been so depressed lately. Mad is better than anything else right now. How would I feel in his situation?' Ron could only imagine, and he tried to, but he knew very well that he couldn't possibly understand. What Harry was going through was something that he, as the sibling of five brothers and one sister, with both of his parents alive and even some extended family (none of who were evil Muggles who locked anyone in cupboards) in his life, could understand.
The tension was finally getting to him. He thought of Harry, upstairs moping, probably looking through his old photo album, feeling guilty and miserable. Ron then thought of what he'd want someone to do, if he was feeling guilty and miserable. What was it Hermione had taken to saying? Misery loves company?
With new resolve, Ron tossed the Quiditch magazine off to the side and slide to his feet, heading towards the staircase to the sixth year boys' dormitory. He would talk to Harry about all of this. He'd make his friend understand and he'd… well, he'd apologize for being a prat. The thought of apologizing usually made Ron squirm but it had been a rough few months. He couldn't take the tension for much longer.
He threw open the door and went inside. "Harry?" he looked around, surprised that there didn't seem to be anyone in the room. "Hey Harry… where are you?" Ron looked around, peering over Harry's bed and behind the drapes. No sign of his friend. Scowling, Ron went to the foot of Harry's bed and checked inside his trunk. The Invisibility Cloak was there… so where was Harry? Where could he have gone?
A sense of dread picked up in Ron's chest. He tried to reason it away but the feeling would not go away. Much as he tried to control his suddenly pounding heart, his rising panic, he just couldn't control himself. He knew, he just KNEW in his bones, that Harry was gone.