Part 4

Turn into Something

The darkness always bugged Ron. He would often claim his fear was specific to the corridors, but it was actually universal. The lack of illumination was an itch behind his neck, an itch he could never scratch. Alone, it had something to do with being alone. In the darkness he became ever aware of his loneliness. There was no one joining his journey. There was no one else climbing the mountain with him.

He had prepared the room, shifted the space, and set the stars into the sky. Now all he needed to do was wait. The others would be joining him shortly, or at least he believed they would. He would often become anxious at this time. Failure was ever present before his eyes. Nothing is defined in the future until it becomes the past.

Silence built around him. The emptiness of the astronomy room was apparent. Ron was all that was aware in the room. Each movement he made was amplified. Ambient noise was limited. The only sounds he could hear were from his own body. The thud. And the Beat.

Tired of his idle motions, Ron started to roll a spliff. If the world was starting to bug him, then he should shift his perception of it. Sometimes breaking down was better than fixing. Why did he have to try and preserve himself?

His fingers felt obtuse and rough. He had never been good at rolling. Hermione's natural skill made him feel inadequate at times. The papers fidgeted between his thumbs, and the weed refused to become circular. His attention wasn't in the right place; his eyes were trying to touch the ground. Maybe the aura of the ground was supportive, or was it tired of supporting angst ridden teenagers its entire life, or was it as lifeless as all other dead objects?

With apprehension he licked the papers and put the spliff between his lips. The paper tasted calming. If he could find a better self medication to help with his anxiety, then he'd be surprised. During fifth year, after he had been recommended to start taking anti-depressants, he was sceptical if the pills were right for him. At times he felt out of control of his actions. Sometimes there was noticeable help given, times he outstretched himself in ways he could not before. But that was less common than he would have liked. It was different whenever he got high, it always felt liberating and felt as if he was still himself.

The sky and stars started to radiate to him. The ceiling of the astronomy room was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The stars and sky felt present. Some how the representation felt intrinsically real, more real than the refracted images from a telescope. Ron had lived with magic his entire life. Magic was ever present in his actions and how he viewed the world. It was rare when magic was still able to inspire awe in him. There needed to be something amazing to affect him deeply. The ceiling was able to affect him deeply. The ceiling was sublime.

He walked towards the centre pedestal that controlled the display. His fingers moved over the control board and pressed a switch. The supernova, his supernova, near Orion's Belt, grew to take up the entire ceiling. Ron's eyes became glued to the display, overtaken by the beauty of the dying star.

Ron laid down upon the ground and lit the spliff resting between his lips. Alone he was overtaken. He could feel the gravity towards it, sucking his heart towards the sky. The great change ever present, the suggestive took from his hands. Colours radiated in a spectrum, greater than he could ever imagine. The horrors of death, shown in a light more beautiful than words could describe. Colours radiated and burst into a spiral; a spiral downward; a spiral upward; a spiral homeward.

For a couple of minutes there was little change. He enjoyed his breaths of smoke, trying to pacify his muscles. A knock. He turned his head towards the doorway. A silhouette stood underneath the arch.

"Jesus Hermione, how do you keep scaring me like that?" Ron joked. He stayed lying on the ground.

Hermione walked out from under the arch in his direction. Her laughter caused by his joke was audible. She sat next to where Ron lay, and started to roll. "You seem to be doing well for yourself. Starting the party a little early? Is everyone else coming soon?" she asked.

Unlike Ron's thick digits, Hermione fingers were smooth and defined. Her eyes were focused on the work of her hands. Ron peered away from the supernova to try and investigate the devils dancing in her cornea. If Nott could see it, eventually Ron was certain he'd be able to notice.

Ron had often pondered whether, when Nott spoke of the devils in eyes, the conversation was supposed to be satirical. Admittedly, Ron was often a bad judge of character. Nott seemed serious and studious whenever he made a comment about the eyes and the devils. There had been times when Nott claimed to be joking about certain things which Ron believed him serious.

"I don't know when they'll be coming. I haven't spoken to any of them since I told them about the party. I was not too precise on a time for them to come, so they'll probably come on their own time," Ron answered. His eyes studied the supernova. Perhaps he'd be able to see the devil there. In something so powerful, powerful enough to rip apart an entire solar system, surely that is where a devil would live. Pure destruction; pure change; pure critique; pure negated creation, are those not where it'd be?

Or maybe Ron was mixing up metaphors. Nott was awfully confusing sometimes, maybe he meant nothing by it instead.

Hermione finished rolling her joint and smiled a deep maroon. She put her hand into Ron's pant pocket, and took out his lighter. "Do we know if Harry will be gracing us with his presence tonight?" The flame flickered in front of her eyes.

Ron rolled onto his side to watch Hermione lighting her joint more intently. She inhaled a deep toke, smoke filled her cheeks. "I don't know that either, unfortunately." He had shared a couple words with Harry in passing, and Harry promised to attend, but Harry gave no more information. Harry followed his own schedule, hopefully there'd be room for the party. At least, Harry would make an appearance. Harry was not known for breaking a promise. There was something about being the unofficial head of Gryffindor that made Harry ascribe to the Gryffindor ideals.

Hermione took the spliff out of her mouth and placed it between Ron's lips. Inhale. Silence. Hermione laid back onto the ground, stretched her limbs. She shuffled herself to be next to Ron, and retook the spliff. The silence continued. The two of them stared intently at the supernova before them. Its elements shifting and breaking. The flow of motion rolling down stream. Resting against a bed of nothingness and space.

Silence.

"Well, why don't you read the future then?" Hermione asked.

Ron turned his head and stared at her. Her eyes, green, stared at him intently. "What do you mean?" he asked neutrally.

The space between them grew slightly, but was bridged as Hermione rose to sit. "I mean, you always talk about your precognition class and we're in your precognition classroom right now. But, with all of that, I don't think I've ever seen you try to read the future." She smiled innocently, perking the right side of the lips up. A playfulness was radiating from her presence, an attempt.

Without having to think about it, Ron agreed with her statement. He had never tried to read the future with her, or at least told her about it. Even with her insistence, he was uneasy with the idea. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he hesitantly suggested.

"Oh come now, don't be a spoil sport. I'm not asking for too much, I'm just curious. If you really don't want to do it, then that's cool." Hermione added.

"No, it's cool," Ron initially replied. His tongue was slowly growing dry. The corneas of his eyes were starting to vibrate. Should he try? What would be found if he started to explore at the moment? He had not started to build intention, the map he was going to receive would be bare. Their would be no guides, no dog eared edges. But maybe he could draw something from this space. He liked to think it was possible harmonise with the magical auras surrounding everything. All he needed to do was reach the proper frequency for him to tune to. First, he needed to extend his hand and start.

Initially he said nothing, but then he started to describe. "Well, within the next couple of minutes the rest of the precognition students will start to walk in. Hannah will come through the door first, followed only a minute later by the Ravenclaws, then Nott and Lavender arriving at the same time. It'll be the whole class, something rarely achieved. We'll all start to drink, you and I will smoke on the wall. Nott will come over, and we'll talk.

"Harry and Enie will arrive together, having come from a HufflePuff party. Terry will start to hang out with the two of them, hitting on either when he can. None of us will know how, but Ernie will make his way to the music and put on some awful Techno. He, Harry, Lavender, Terry, and Hannah will dance to this music for most of the party. The rest of us will watch and talk. Ernie will hit on Hannah, but she won't answer to any of his approaches. We'll complain often about how the music is too loud.

"Near the end of the night, half of the group will be left. You, Harry and I will want to stay and watch the sunrise while the others want to call it a night. Maybe Nott's in the group with us, I am not sure. When it comes time for the sunset, it's just the three or four of us left. We climb to the top of the tower and wait outside. Once the sunrise begins, we talk about how we're going to miss this school after we leave. None of us are particularly comfortable out there; we go back inside once the Sun's completely visible. It's a good night."

Silence. Hermione was intently watching Ron dictate. As he finished, she softened her gaze slightly and lay back. She was obviously high by the sound of her voice "Wow, you are able to predict that much?"

Ron started to laugh slightly. "Of course not, I was just pulling that out of my ass. I'm far too high to even get anything. We'd be lucky if I was able to get emotional readings from either of us, not even the same kind of precognition as reading the future."

Initially Hermione seemed annoyed that Ron had just lied. She moved closer to him and punched him in the arm. Beat. They shared a moment. They shared laughter. Both of them laid down onto their backs.

The time stretched forward. The space between their sides was defined. As if it were a great chasm, one which Ron has no idea how to pass. In truth she lay only an arm stretch away, not just her body but her mind and her desires and her apprehensions and her neuroses were just as present. A great inch grew upon the back of Ron's hand. His body wanted him to outstretched and reach her. If he could connect, then it would cause change. Would the change be better? Problems would not be solved, that would be an unreasonable goal. In ways more problems would be created, but at least they would move past the problems they were stuck in.

Ron turned his head, Hermione was staring at the ceiling. Her eyes, green, were staring intently away from him. The two of them stayed this way, a blanket of stasis covered. "Hermione," Ron started to say "what are you looking for?"

It took a couple of seconds for Hermione to show signs of attention. She turned her head towards his. Her eyes, green, stared intently. "What do you mean?" she asked delicately. An innocence danced around her face, not of contextual ambiguity, but of a desire to clarify. She continued to look; she continued to search.

"What are you trying to find? Like, not right now, but in life. For the longest time I was trying to find truth in the world, or order. But recently I've become sceptical whether truth is actually what I desire." Ron paused for a second to organise his thoughts. "I desire something. All of my actions are to find it. It's not physical, or else I'd focus exclusively on satisfying my needs. It's not emotional, cause the more I seem to look, the sadder I seem to get. And, well I don't know. I legitimately, really don't know. Maybe I'm not making sense, or maybe I'm the only one who searches this way. I don't know."

"I'm kind of high right now," Ron joked.

Hermione smiled, slightly. The devils in her eyes danced in rows. They took off their clothes. Red bled into the blue dripping down to the dreams, the vivid dreams only devils can dream. "I can't say I really know either. I'm stuck searching too, I could accept truth as a goal, maybe. Either way, I would say this: I love the journey. I love looking into things; I love understanding things; I love to learn. If I never find some great truth at the end of the tunnel, I don't think I will mind. If I don't become a better person, I don't think I'll care much either.

"When I leaver here, this school, my greatest fear is to lose that passion. I want to become a professor at a university, but, to be honest I don't care much for the magic. When I was younger, before I even knew about magic, I still loved it as much as I do now," the smile deepened as the nostalgia became present in her mind. "The day I discouvered I was a wizard, I couldn't wait to learn everything there is from magic. And, if I ever run out of things to learn of magic, then I'll leave it behind."

"Or maybe not, I'm kind of a little high too," she joked back. Beat. Silence. "Do you think the others will be joining us soon?"

Ron sat up from his position on the ground and crossed his legs. He reached into his robe; his fingers searched through the pockets till he found his cigarettes. With a smile he put one between his lips. He turned his body, so that he was facing her. Her eyes, red, blue and green, stared intently at him. His eyes, stared intently back. With a single motion he struck a match and lit the tip of his cigarette. Beat.

After a drag, Ron began "I don't know, I'm sure they'll come soon. I doubt sometimes whether what I'm looking for is real or attainable. But who knows? Maybe if I keep on searching I'll find what I'm looking for. And when I do, maybe it'll change how I see things. Maybe I'll turn into something, something I like. That would be nice."

Smoke filled the space between the two of them.

Beat.

Everything has been figured out, except how to live. -Jean-Paul Sartre

0000

End of Story 1

Author's Notes:

I would like to thank you for reading. I hope you liked it or took something from it.