It's Obvious

Chapter 1

For as long as anyone could remember, they had been friends. They were seen everywhere with one another, and no one had thought anything of it. Well, at least, they didn't think anyone thought any thing of it.

From the time of the infamous Halloween troll event, to the Basilisk, to…well, too many to remember. Each year, something more outrageous happened, and it just became the norm. It was as if they though,

"Time to save the world again!" Hermione would say.
"Are you serious?" Harry answered.
"Yeah! Come on!" She'd say.
"Hold on, let me get my shoes on!" Ron would reply.

It was nothing out of the ordinary; standard. School would start, a plot in the school would brew, and something half-way through the year would scare the be-jesus out of them. And then, at the end of the year, a dangerous act would occur. And though it was dangerous every time, it got worse each year. Harry would meet against Voldemort in some form or other, and be forced to fight him. Except for third year, that was completely different.

"If only I had…"

"No, Harry, don't think on it. You couldn't stop him from escaping."

And so, the reality existed that that…well, this was reality. And it sucked.

And then 5th year came, and Harry regretted that battle more than everything else. He had put too many people in danger that time. Not only were his two best friends there, but three other school mates—even Ron's sister! If something had happened…well, something did happen.

"Harry, there was nothing you could have done! You didn't know—you—"Hermione would say.

"STOP! If we hadn't gone in the first place, if I hadn't been tricked into it…I almost got us ALL killed!"

"But you didn't. We're safe—and that's what matters."

Try as she might, Hermione couldn't get through to Harry that summer before 6th year. Everything she said to him seemed a blur. He was actually tired of listening to her. They had talked on the phone twice since school let out (because the Order threatened the Dursleys to try and stop him). And each time they talked, Hermione would be silent, as though waiting for Harry to start yelling again.

"…what?" Harry said out of the silence.

"What, what?" she said.

"Why aren't you talking?"

"What do you want me to say, Harry? I know there's nothing I could say to make you stop being upset. I mean, I'm just stating the facts, and you're still angry—"

"WAIT a minute. I don't have a right to be angry? Sirius—"

"I KNOW. Believe me, I know. But you don't have to talk to me like this. After all, you called me."

Harry snorted and slammed the phone down. Uncle Vernon saw the bout of teen angst.

"What's a matter, boy? Your friend incapable of using the phone?" he chuckled, his fat neck shaking under the effort.

"You're real hilarious." Harry went up stairs, and slammed the door, as was his wont when he was angry.

Of course after having the previous conversation with Hermione, that's what he thought about. He hadn't spoke to Ron since he left Kings Cross; he assumed Ron would think it too early to talk about…yeah. That was it. As for Hermione, she seemed a bit reluctant the first time they spoke on the phone. It was as he expected:

"Hello, may I speak to Hermione? It's Harry."

A bit of shock resounded from whoever had answered the other end, and in a few seconds Hermione reached the phone.

"Hello, Harry?"

"Yeah. Hi."

"How are you Harry? How are…how are the Dursley's treating you?"

"Um, the same I guess. Since the Order threatened them, they seem a bit lax on being jerks."

"Well, that's good."

And the silence commenced. Harry knew automatically it was because of what had happened at Hogwarts, but didn't want to bring it up.

"Um, Harry?" she finally said.

"Yeah?"

"How are…you?"

"I'm okay, I guess."

"That's good."

More silence.

"Harry, I know you're upset, and we can talk about this if—"

"No, no I don't want to right now. Let's talk about something else."

So, they spoke about, what else? School. Harry told Hermione about his Auror track, and Hermione told him about her undecided-ness in that area.

"I'm really not sure. I mean, I would love to teach at Hogwarts, but, I just don't know."

"Why on earth would you teach? I mean, you could be an Auror! You have fantastic skills."

Hermione laughed into the phone.

"Yeah, well, I don't know."

That was their first call. The second time, Harry called to ask about Ron.

"I sent him an owl, and he hasn't responded."

"No, I haven't heard from him either. They might be on vacation or…"

"Or what?"

Hermione was silent for a few seconds, and Harry felt his anger rising.

"Or what, Hermione?"

"They might be hiding or something, I don't know."

"Have you gotten any notification about hiding or, what's even going on?"

"No, I haven't. Dumbledore sent me an owl about a week after school ended saying that he would stay in contact with me, and I would be sent for if something came up, but he hasn't sent anything since then."

Then, Harry was angry.

"This is JUST LIKE last year! I don't know WHAT'S GOING ON! Why do people do this to me?"

"Calm down Harry, if something happens, you'll be first to know, I'm sure of it,"

"Yeah, well, you really don't know, do you? Why do they do things without me? Like I'm too young! I've been up against him how many times?"

"Harry—you are young. You're not even 16 yet."

The conversation eventually switched to last year, as Harry had subconsciously wished for. And now that he had hung up on her and was lying on his bed, he thought about what had happened. Besides the fact Sirius had died—which was killing him, but that was a whole other emotion right now—he had almost gotten his friends killed. All because he was stupid and fell for the trap. And who had told him it might be a trap in the first place? Hermione. And who did he think had died in the Ministry? Hermione. And that would have been his fault.

All of a sudden, Harry felt a gut wrenching pain in his stomach, like vomit. The thought that they could have died—it was too much. He started to cry, and despite Aunt Petunia's banging on the door of his room, he continued to do so right into his pillow. How could he let this happen? Then, the memory of what did happen came, and Sirius' faded, yet, goofy smile came rushing to him. Sirius was his ticket out of this place, or he had been anyway; the light at the end of the tunnel, a speck of family that actually gave a damn if he lived or not. And now, he was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The feelings of vengeance welled up in his chest, and he stood up, wiping the tears from his face. He picked up the mirror that Sirius had given—which was now cracked—and threw it against the wall. The shards fell on the floor, and Harry went over to his desk. Pulling out parchment and a pen, Harry began to write:

Dumbledore,

What's going on now? I haven't received any notice at all as to what I should be doing. Please, tell me how things are. The muggle news isn't talking about Voldemort yet, but I know that means he just hasn't come to them. Tell me what to do, please.

Harry

He tied the small note to Hedwig, and sent her off. He knew that he wouldn't receive a response, but he felt better for sending it anyway. When Harry finally went downstairs for dinner, the Dursley's stared at him.

"What?" he said, scooping food onto his plate.

"You had a…call." Aunt Petunia said. Uncle Vernon sneered at him, and Dudley just ate.

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"Who was it?"

"It was a…girl, actually."

Hermione, he thought.

"What did she want?"

"I don know! But if you call her back, don't stay on long. We're expecting a call from Marge." Petunia answered. Harry stuck out his tongue at this.

Harry rushed from the table and called Hermione.

"Hello, Hermione? Did you just call?"

"Yes, Harry. They're coming. You need to get ready."

"Who is?"

"Just get ready. They'll be there soon!"

"WHO is?" Harry screamed into the phone.

Hermione hung up the phone. Harry's heart was beating fast. Hermione didn't sound scared, so it couldn't be anything bad. Maybe it was the Order. Harry rushed up stairs and threw his stuff into his trunk, and piling Hedwig's empty cage on top.

"She'll find me." He said aloud.