Chapter 9.

Harry slammed the door behind him into the dormitory, still frazzled from the Fat Lady scaring him out of his skin, but stopped his pace when he saw Ron start.

"Working on Muggle Studies?" Harry relaxingly asked, seeing the mirror and notebook spread out on Ron's unmade bed.

"Yeah," Ron replied, his eyes focusing on the dark picture in the mirror. It was still in the duffel bag, and by the sound of it, they were traveling.

"What do you do with that?" Harry asked, captivated as he set down his notebook and gear on his own bed and headed over to Ron's.

Ron pulled the mirror closer, not sure if he should tell Harry. This was a girl's life he was watching in on, and he was supposed to keep it secret…

Harry saw Ron's reaction, "Want to keep to the secret stuff?" he asked stiffly, his eyes testing. Since when was Ron obeying a teacher like, well, like Hermione?

Ron shook his head and beckoned Harry, knowing that it was only a matter of time anyhow. He pulled the mirror back out, showing Harry the black scene.

"See, nothing. Right now her mirror is shoved inside a bag that she's carrying. All I can do is wait," Ron narrated, leaning back onto his pillow.

Harry shook his head, "No, Ron, it's nothing now, I can only see me."

Ron leaned forward, and sure enough only saw his red reflection. "What happened?"

Harry shrugged. "How long have you been doing this?"

Ron thought, "About a half-hour."

"Remember? We can only do it one half-hour outside the classroom," Harry reminded, as disappointed as Ron.

Ron sighed, "And it was just going somewhere."

Harry smiled, interested, "What was happening?"

"I think she was going to play some sport, she had those, um, sicker balls, the ones with the black spots?"

"Oh, soccer balls," Harry commented. Ron leaned forward, his eyes wide open.

"How does soccer work?" Ron interrogated. Harry, after laughing a bit that Ron was keen to learn something, of which Ron responded with a punch; and spent the next fifteen minutes explaining it before the other boys entered the dormitory, laughing and talking loudly.

"What's up?" Ron asked, shoving the mirror and his notes away.

Seamus took a moment to breathe before answering, "Our Muggle Studies girl is such a-"

"Well, she's hot," Dean finished, high-fiving Seamus for the millionth time.

Harry and Ron shared a grin, "Well, what did she do?" Ron asked, automatically lured.

"She's a student, that's all we really know, and she dances a lot," Neville said as he climbed under his covers. Divination was a bore, just the same old predictions by the same old bat. Tonight he had been given two choices: hang out with the other boys and watch their Muggle Studies projects or filling in a chart about what day of the week is best for shopping for socks.

Neville had undeniably felt less eager to do the later.

"Is she any good?" Harry asked, not knowing anything about dancing. He shivered as the Yule Ball crept back from his memory. He could only hope that if he ever was faced with a situation as embarrassing as that again, he would have his invisibility cloak with him.

"Are you kidding? She's awesome!" Seamus answered, as if this connection was plain to see.

"She's funny, and Seamus here thinks he can set up a date," Dean added as he threw a pillow at his best friend and put on his pajamas.

Harry shook his head hopelessly and headed back over to his own bed, sliding under the covers as Ron also did so. Harry would finish the notebook tomorrow, maybe during History of Magic, goodness knows that he falls asleep in there anyway.

Ron laid there between the sheets, recalling all about Anna Maria. Why was she crying? And another thing, why did she need a mirror to play soccer?